Snow and Ice
by Herr Doktor
Summary: Surviving an airplane crash is rare enough on its own. Meeting a group of technologically advanced violent men on an icy mountain is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Too bad that all ends a little too soon.
1. Chapter 1: And so it Begins

AN: Been a while, hasn't it? Here's a li'l thingamabobber

Snow, snow everywhere. I can't get enough air into my lungs. Every breath I take is another nail in my coffin. I can feel the ice biting into my throat; freezing my chest until there will be nothing left but an icy mass.

I can't die here. Not here, not now. I haven't seen my mother and father in three years! I can't be finished off by a damn plane crash!

I want to live. I want to see them. But willpower is not enough here. Willpower cannot restore heat to my chilled form. Willpower cannot make my failing lungs draw more air. I felt my limbs slow, and then, the blinding white was covered by darkness.

…

My father never trusted airplanes.

"I will give up my revolver before I ride an airplane."

And the only solid object in the world he loved more than his revolver was my mother.

He told me not to go to America on a plane.

"Take a ship. I don't care if it takes longer. You'll thank me when a ship floats. Planes crash. Ships float, get it, mon ami?"

I told him he was being silly, and bought a plane ticket for the job.

His favorite saying was, "I told you so."

Correction: His favorite saying IS "I told you so." He's not the one who took the plane.

…

Warmth, voices. Fingers…rough and callused. Not gentle. Yet, they are careful.

"Dis one still breathes."

"Quick, bring him here. Zhe ozhers in zhe vreck are dead."

The voices. German accent has a voice that is soft, almost hypnotic. Russian one is very thick, slow, and thoughtful.

I am lifted. Pain, shooting pain in my back.

"Who are they?"

"Zhey are just civilizans. I count about fifty bodies. A small plane, anyhow."

"Why help dis one? He is almost dead."

"I may still save him."

"Doktor, I know you are not dat kind. What are you doing dis for?"

The pain. Gone. Soothing warmth washing over me, my head is in someone's lap. The air is no longer biting into my mouth; saliva once again runs in my mouth.

"I sense…he vill be useful."

"Very well."

Something is pressed to my lips. Liquid. I drink it.

It burns! Oh God, it burns!

Hacking, coughing, and choking, I sit up, all my muscles suddenly alive and functional, albeit stiff.

My vision is blurred, and everything seems abnormally dark. An eerie blue light waves in front of my view.

"Can you talk?"

I can only respond with a cough. My throat is fuzzy and clammy.

The drink is held to my lips again, and I swallow some more. My throat seems to warm and flex in my neck.

"Who…."

"Ve are of zhe Builder's League United. I have a couple of questions, zhen you may rest."

"What…how am I…."

"Quiet now. First question. Vhere are you from? Or razher, is someone expecting you?"

"I…I was 'eading back to France…after a job in America…my mother…my father…."

"Hm. Ve vill have to search for some records later zhen. Now second, are you trained in fighting at all?"

"Ah, gun fighting, knife fighting, and martial arts," I recite numbly. My eyes refuse to focus, and all I can see are two eerie orbs-are those my rescuer's eyes?-floating in front of me amidst a dark mass.

"Very vell. Sleep now."

As if on command, my eyelids drop down and I sink deep into sleep.

…

"Hey, wake up, skinny."

I slowly opened my eyes. My mind told me I should be dead. Instead, I was feeling rather warm, and lying in a soft bed. So, shut up, mind.

Someone was sitting on my legs. A boy. I'd guess nineteen, maybe twenty years old? Did he call me skinny?

"Doc said not to bother you, but seriously, you look okay." The boy slipped off me and stretched. "So, you're not dead. How you feeling?"

"You should thank doc. He saved ya."

"Man, you should see your suit, it's all messed up."

His rapid chatter is giving me a headache, so I tune him out and take in my surroundings.

I'm definitely in some sort of clinic or ward. Four beds stretch out to my left. On my right, a shuttered window allows pale white light to filter in. The room itself is large, and smells faintly of something sweet. It is barren except for the beds, a desk across the corner, and several metal closets. It's rather dim, with only a couple of the ceiling lights on, and the temperature is surprisingly warm.

The walls are clear, but the wall behind me is plastered with posters. Some are diagrams of various body parts, detailing a little too much. Others are surprisingly beautiful photos of snowy forests and mountains. One shows a polar bear with its cubs.

"Yeah, Doc's a weirdo."

"Who's a veirdo?"

AN: Thar ya go. More to follow.


	2. Chapter 2: My Hero!

AN: For the sake of sanity, I've deleted most of the chapters to avoid inconsistencies with the story later on. Please understand, this will save some brain cells.

"I hope you are vell."

The man gliding into the room now is somewhat difficult to describe. I suppose the best word to describe him is "ethereal". He seems distant, in expression and form.

He is stick thin, with a medical uniform clearly at its smallest size, and yet still a little loose. His face is narrow, his hair dark and his eyes a cold blue. His features are angular, sharp, practically cut from crystal. His eyes have an almost sunken look, and he could easily be anywhere from twenty to forty.

His hands are pale, thin, and yet not all that long. I can tell he's shorter than me, probably standing at about five foot eight or nine. As his eyes roamed over me they seemed not to actually focus, instead seeming to stare through me at something only visible to him.

"I trust you are feeling better?"

I nod slowly, still taking in the man's hollow figure. He really should try eating. I heard somewhere that eating is good for you.

"Gut. Now, vould you please get out of bed? I need to check you over real quick. Daniel, please go."

The boy sitting on my legs frowned. "Can't I hang out in your room?"

"Fine, but don't come out until I am done." The man took out a pair of rubbery surgical gloves, and snapped them on with the ease of a practiced physician. "Hurry."

The boy scampered off through a small door in the fall corner of this…medical bay. Once the door was shut, I slowly got up.

I had been dressed in a pair of hospital shorts and a white sweater. I looked down at my feet and flinched. My legs were heavily bandaged, and my feet were clearly very bloody.

"Don't vorry about your feet," the strange man (doctor?) said. He bent down to examine the blood caked on my feet. "I did not clean it earlier because ve vere in a hurry, and zhen I simply forgot." He started scrubbing the blood off with a rough cloth. "Are you sore anyvhere?"

"Everywhere, but seeing as I just survived a plane crash, I have no complaints," I murmured. Once the blood was rubbed off I saw my feet, skin torn and covered in scabs. "Oh, mon dieu."

"Ah yes, your feet vas covered in glass shards. I pulled zhem all out, and took an x-ray, do not vorry." His overlong hair swept around his head as he looked over my poor, poor feet. "Any especially bad pains?"

"Now that you mention it," I said. "My neck hurts, a lot."

"I vill give you a neck brace later."

"You mean those cone things?" I asked warily. If this man thinks he is putting a cone on my head, he has another thing coming.

"No, something like a collar, with shoulder pads." The doctor stood, and frowned. "Take off your shirt, bitte."

I did as he asked, and had to avert my eyes at the sight of my own chest. A long, thin scar ran down the length of it, though strangely there were no stitches. "Did you give me _heart_ surgery?"

"No, I removed two-inch thick piece of steel from your sternum. It vas razher close to your heart. Be glad it vas not in it." He ran a finger down the scar. The whole length of it was completely numb. "I can reduce zhe scar to almost nozhing, but ve vill vorry about zhat later."

"You can remove scars?" I asked eagerly.

"Yes, but later. Now I really vould like to check your back, vhich was twisted a little. I reset it vizh zhe medigun's help but…"

I turned around obligingly, and wondered mildly at what he meant by "medigun".

I felt his hands trail over my back, pressing along the length of my spine. Near my hips, he pressed particularly hard, and I swore.

"Fils de pute!"

"Im sorry?"

"Nothing, but that hurt. A lot." I turned around to glare at him.

The man returned my glare with a mild expression. "It seems you are bruising under zhe skin in zhat area, vhich is a problem. It may make valking painful. I vill treat zhat in a moment. Zhe last zhing I vant to see is your eyes."

"My eyes?" I sat down on the bed, and watched him draw out a flashlight. "Um-I do not use substances."

"I know. I vould like to check if you…" he shined the light in my eyes, which I squinted into. "You do realize you're supposed to open your eyes here. Haven't you ever been to a doctor?"

"You look like a patient suffering from an eating disorder," I said plainly.

The man rolled his eyes. "You just survived a plane crash, and all you can do is insult your doctor. I don't vant to know how you treat your friends."

Now that the realization I had survived a plane crash sank in, I was instantly remorseful. "Sorry," I muttered. My head pounded. "I just feel a little off."

"It's quite alright. I have treated people who tried to kill me after I helped zhem, so a little rudeness is hardly a drop in zhe sea." The doctor pushed me back into the bed and strode off to a medical cabinet. He took from it a bundle of metal rods and tubes.

"I'm sorry but-what are those for?"

The man's eyes seemed to glint. "Oh zhese? Zhey go in various bodily orifices. Ve vant to check how your innards are doing, right?"

"Merde."


	3. Chapter 3: Gerard Pascal

AN: With apologies to _Lohr_, who corrected me on the term "fils de pute", which has been fixed.

"So, tell me," I said as conversationally as I could manage. "What do you all do here?"

"Stop moving!" The doctor (Or as he told me to call him, the "Medic") drew the needle back out. I flinched. even with anesthesia my thigh refused to stop twitching when the needle dived in.

"Did you have to do this while I was awake?"

"I told you to just keep talking, it vill take your mind off zhis."

"I'm talking, and not getting any responses," I said flatly.

"Fine, ask avay." Another pinch of the needle, and another segment of catgut or whatever it is they make these threads out of. "Zhough bear in mind I cannot answer certain zhings."

"Right," I muttered, teeth gritted. "So as I said early, what are you all doing up here in these god-forsaken mountains?"

"Ah," Medic said. "Allow me to give you more detail. Ve are a mercenary team in zhe employ of _Blutarch Mann_, who-quite frankly-is a century and a half old infant with a lot of money."

"I'm sorry? An infant?"

"He is constantly at var vizh his twin brozher, Redmond Mann. Zhe two of zhem are old, too old if you ask me, and arrange battles, throwing hired mercenaries at each ozher. Zhey even arrange the battles, vizh rules and start and stop times, so zhat neizher gets zhe ozher hand. It's like zhey are playing chess, only zhey are undoubtedly too stupid to play chess."

"So they...employ you."

"Indeed. I am but vone of many who have fought for zhese _dummkopfs_. Very few live out zheir contracts."

"'Contracts'?"

Medic smirked, and finished up the last stitch. Thank God. I was starting to gain sensation back in my legs. "We all signed contracts. We fight for a set amount of time, and if ve survive, ve get a large sum of money. Cash, apparently. Zhey haven't yet realized zhat zhe credit card has been invented."

"Doc?"

I looked up at the door, and tried to put on a friendly face. Wouldn't do to irritate my rescuers.

A rather handsome man with dark (Or extremely tanned pale, I can never tell. Especially with Americans, who always seem extremely eager to burn their skin to a crisp.) Large, clear green eyes were framed with smooth, almost rounded features. This was a guy who could get a date rather easily. He should also put on a shirt, because as well built as he is, there was a horrific mass of scar tissue covering the left half of his chest, stopping just before the sport where his ribs ended.

Despite my mental compliments, he wasn't too happy to see me. The moment his gaze landed on Medic, they jumped to me. His eyes widened. He spun on his heels and dashed out without a word.

Medic's expression was blank. I've noticed he wasn't a fan of emotions. Maybe he has a problem with his facial muscles. He turned back to me and helped me to my feet.

"Who was that? Is he one of you mercenaries?"

"Your _mère_. Now, let's get you under the medigun." He started leading me to his desk.

"Wait-seriously now, who was he?"

"Your stepmother. Now turn to the medigun, please," Medic murmured, holding up a strange tube-shaped device joined to a larger backpack-like machine.

I scowled, but let the matter drop. Clearly this person really was insignificant, or else very significant. I resolved to search for him later, if this idiot who calls himself a medic ever finishes is "examination".

"What is that thing?" I asked warily, eyeing the tubular apparatus.

"It's a vacuum. I'm going to remove a few of your uneeded organs," Medic replied amiably. He pushed me down into his rolling chair.

"Right. Tell me what it's really for."

"It's called a 'medigun', take a guess at its purpose." The medic turned a knob on the side of the device and aimed the barrel at me. All of a sudden I was very, very nervous.

"So this thing...is safe, yes?"

"Nobody has died yet."

"Oh."

* * *

"That felt rather nice."

"Really? How unfortunate," Medic said, putting the device away. "Now, my dear_ freund_, we must discuss a few things."

"Alright," I said, leaning back in the chair. The "Medigun" has emitted a lovely blue ray of some kind of energy, and it gave me the most incredible sensation of well-being...everything just felt _better._

"Let us begin with your name. Zhis is how most human interactions begin, ja?"

That's a strange way to put it, but yes. "I'm Gerard. Gerard Pascal."


	4. Chapter 4: A Brand New Day

"Just be casual," Medic said.

I nervously twisted my necktie into a loop. "Casual? I'm about to meet a team of violent mercenaries."

"I said, calm down." Medic handed me a revolver and a butterfly knife. "Keep zhese vizh you. You do not have to show zhem, just keep zhem vizh you."

"I can use a revolver but...I have never used a butterfly knife before," I said, staring at the blade dubiously. "I might cut my finger off."

"Just keep it on hand."

I grit my teeth, and walked tensely to the door.

"If you don't relax I vill have to pump you full of narcotics," Medic warned, removing his coat. He fished out a pair of black khakis and slipped into his room to change.

I must admit, I was pretty impressed with how well I'd been healed. After all, I'd just been through a plane crash on an icy mountain.

That device of his seemed to help considerably. The "Medigun". I'd never seen anything like it. It seemed like something out of a science fiction novel, a magical ray of light that heals wounds. According to him, however, it can only regenerate wounds where the flesh is still alive and active. That was apparently why I still had scars all over me. The wounds had frozen over, and the medigun could not heal those. Apparently, I'd need a surgery later to remove the scars and let the medigun heal some bruising.

Oh, I can't wait.

I went directly down the left hall, as Medic instructed, and continued to follow it, wandering past various rooms. Some were marked with name plaques.

"Sniper...pyro…" I murmured, reading them off. One room was labeled "Unstable Ordinance". I decided to squish the cat before it got me killed.

At the end of the hall, the path split in to. The sign pointing left said "Cafeteria".

_"Go to the cafeteria. Most of the team should be zhere eating breakfast. Introduce yourself as a survivor of zhe crash. I vill be out zhere in a few minutes."_

I frowned. These people may well shoot me on sight.

_"Heavy vas vizh me vhen ve found you. He vill support you, in his own fashion. You can't miss him. He is zhe biggest man in zhe room, in many vays."_

The sliding glass door ahead was bright, and I quickly peered through into a large, tiled room. The counters were messy, covered in food stains and even scorches. Some men were clustered around a dining table, with one lone masked man in a suit (Very much like the one Medic had given me to wear) stood in the far corner by the opposite door. He was reading a book and smoking. Then, as if by some sixth sense, he looked up and locked eyes with me. His eyes narrowed, but he turned back down to his book.

Now thoroughly unnerved, I stepped into the room, making sure to keep the glass door open in case I needed to retreat...for reasons concerning my safety.

Saying nothing, I stood awkwardly behind the blob of people, leaning against the door frame.

I temporarily forgot how to speak.

After a couple of awkward minutes (What's taking Medic so long?) the man in the suit looked back up at me and cleared his throat. All voices in the room fell silent, and one by one the various people turned to face me.

"Ah...Allo-Hello," I said hastily. I glanced back at the doorway behind me, then back at the myriad of strange faces. "I am...from the plane crash."

A man with a large grey bucket over his head let out a snort.

Heavy (Why yes, he _is_ the biggest man in the room. What has he been eating? Protein cakes?) shook his head. "You are like tiny french spy-man." He turned to face the masked fellow. "He sounds like you!"

The "spy" grinned. "Perhaps-but does he fight like me?" He whipped out a butterfly knife, also similar to the one Medic handed me, and snapped the blade open with a flourish.

"Now hold on a sec spy-be nice." A goggled man in overalls spoke up. He was about my height, perhaps an inch or two shorter, with a soft, amiable voice and an air of patience. "I heard doc talking about you. I dunno how you survived a plane crash, but I'm mighty impressed." He stepped forward and offered me his hand.

I shook the proffered hand, relieved at getting at least one pleasant response. "I'm Gerard."

The man smiled. "Us mercenaries don't really use our names. Company policy. Call me by my job title-'Engineer'."

"Engineer it is, then. Are you from Texas?"

His face darkened. "What, you think just 'cause I talk like this I'm from cow country? Is that it?"

I hastily stepped back. "I'm sorry-how rude of me, I didn't mean to assume-"

Engineer broke out into a grin. "I'm just messin' with you, boy. Yeah, I'm from Texas. Love the place to death, but never could stand the way folks treated other folks there. In my neighborhood, if you didn't like a guy, you put a few shotgun rounds in his face." He chuckled at the memory. "The local sheriff was slower than my lame horse. Surprised he could fit in his chair. I wonder if he's lost any weight?"

The "Spy" was still glaring at me over Engineer's head, an almost malicious aura seeming to ooze from him.

Engineer was talking again, so I redirected my attention.

"Anyhow, where's the doc? I figured he'd be with ya'."

"He said he'll be out in a few minutes," I answered, surveying the other faces. One particular person interested me. One man(or woman) had a large gas mask or helmet of some sort over their head. They appeared to be sealed in an insulated suit of some kind. Based on how shiny it looked, I supposed a main compound was rubber.

"Sorry I'm late," a German voice said from behind me.

I turned around, almost relieved to see the doctor.

"Ah, _le medecin_, I thought you might have gotten your head stuck in the doorway," I said.

Medic smiled, seeming almost tired. Was he tired just walking from the medical bay? "Nothing of the sort, I'm afraid. I was just changing. So, we're all here?"

"Yep," Engineer said, turning back to address the room at large. "Hey y'all, this guy survived the plane crash. You all play nice now."

I was staring at medic, puzzled. Something was different about him. Perhaps it was his composure, or maybe his appearance. Something seemed strange. Regardless, I faced the crowd of eight pairs of eyes. Seven, minus the man with a bucket on his head.

"Ah, yes, hello. I'm Gerard. I was on that airplane to France."

Medic smiled, and then I noticed that his left eye seemed brighter than his right eye. Perhaps it was a trick of the light-no. His left eye was not blue-it was green, almost. It still seemed somewhat blue, but with a muted quality, as though someone had painted over his iris. Strange-I'd thought his eyes were absolutely, chillingly blue before.

"The lone survivor-he is zhe last vone. It vould make a lovely story, ja? Anyvay, introduce yourselves."

"Make me," Buckethead snarled, glaring(Or perhaps not. It is difficult to tell with the bucket in the way.) at Medic. "A true American would never reveal his true identity to a cowardly frenchman."

Engineer shook his head. "Don't mind him. I think he was dropped a few times when he was a boy."

A darker man with an eyepatch stood and stumbled over to me. "You...you there-lassie...laddie?"

I blinked a couple of times, and shied away from the overpowering stench of alcohol and unbrushed teeth. "Um, yes?"

"You think you're so damn _fancy_, like some kind of...some kind of fancy RICH MAN?" He raised a large, empty bottle over his head, and I took a step back.

Medic gently nudged me aside and stepped forward. With his left hand, he held Demoman's head steady. He drew his right arm back…

And slapped the dark man across the face. He slumped, muttering incoherently.

Medic stepped back, and I gawked at the writhing figure on the ground. I reminded myself not to irritate the medic, or face a painful fate for my face, which I wouldn't be able to face, in the face of such a terrible fate.

Something in my head ached.

"You look just like the bloody spook," a sharp, clear voice said. A heavy australian accent accompanied it.

I looked up at a tall, narrow-featured man wearing shades. It's indoors-what's he wearing shades for?

"He looks nothing like me-you are being exceedingly judgemental, _mon ami_," the unpleasant suit-person murmured. "Look at him-soft. I could cut through him like a cake. A sponge cake."

Engineer seemed annoyed. "This is no greeting. You all line up and introduce yourselves right proper."

The group obliged, lining up from a shorter, extremely thin young man to the frenchman.

"Scout," the young man said. He was wearing a blue turtleneck that seemed incredibly conspicuous on him. "I hurt people. I kill people too-but mostly hurt 'em."

"Thank you, Scout," Engineer said, sighing. "Soldier?"

The said "Soldier" was not in line, but crouching behind the dinner table, lips twisted into a snarl. "You will never take me to your_ snail land_, mister! I will bring your head back to Abraham Lincoln on a plate!"

"Soldier boy-Lincoln's dead. Has been for decades," The australian reminded.

"Lies!" Soldier screamed. "You are one of _them_ aren't you! I see through your disguise! I _know_ you now! You're all against us! GOD BLESS AMERICA!" The bucket-headed man turned and ran out through the opposite door, still screaming random phrases as he went.

"He...I don't know him, and neither should you," Engineer said. "Pyro, please."

"Mrrrphhrm phhyrrrrn. Hrn!"

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"Don't worry. He can't take his suit off, so just bear with him," Engineer said. "Demoman-doc, _what are you doing to him?"_

Medic had a very large needle connected to a very large test tube stuck in Demo's arm. "I am collecting zhe blood. Ve may be setting a vorld record for alcohol concentration in blood. Zhe vorld record prize is eight thousand pounds."

"Right...Heavy?"

The bear of a man they called "Heavy" stepped forward. His legs seemed almost comically disproportianate to his upper body bulk. His large jaw was strong and darkened by a layer of stubble, and his big head was bald, shiny, in a way.

"I am Heavy," he said simply. "I did not think you live, but Medic save you, so you survive."

Simplicity. I admire that in an individual.

"Nice to meet you. You were with the Medic when he rescued me, oui?"

"Yes." He stepped back in line, dark eyes unreadable.

The australian nodded to me. "Sniper. I shoot people and they die;simple as that. Been here six months, three more months to go before my contract's up."

Engineer looked almost unhappily at the last man, the man in the suit. "Spy-just say it and be done."

The "Spy" stepped forward. "I am the spy, in case you are too stupid to have realized it. I am the assassin, _le espion._"

Engineer breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled. "There, that wasn't too hard, now was it?"

As he said this, the lights went out, and everything went pitch black.

The next two minutes was a mass of flailing limbs and curses in various languages, including several creative ones from the scout.

"Move it!"

"Zhat is my foot!"

"Oi-that you, spook?"

_"OOOOOOH SAY CAN YOU SEEEEE? BY THE DAWN'S-"_

"Engineer-can you find zhe battery-povered lamp on zhe counter?"

"Sure, if some idiot hasn't smashed it yet."

I pressed myself against the wall as the brawl continued. I heard fist connect with flesh, and in the dark someone sidled up beside me.

"So, _mon ami,_ you were in the airplane crash, hm?"

I flinched, and instinctively reached for the revolver in my coat, but managed to spit out an answer.

"Yes, I was. Would you mind if I asked why you seem to dislike me?" My fingers closed around the gun's grip.

"Ah-you see, I can tell you are a man of skill-a man of methods, you see. I would not like you to get any...funny ideas, you understand?"

"Engineer, have you found zhe light-ow! Heavy!"

"Sorry doctor!"

"Why won't the bloody door open?"

"Zhey are sealed during outages vizh emergency power, Herr Sniper."

"I'll smash 'em then!"

"Vait! Zhe glass-"

Something blundered past me in the dark and barreled into the door beside me. Glass flew everywhere, and a shard of it stabbed right through my slippers and into my feet.

"_Sacre Bleu!"_

I heard a snort to my left. "Nobody says that anymore."

"Fine-_fuck you!"_

* * *

"Zhat vas a bad idea, Herr Sniper."

I watched Sniper curse as another shard was drawn out of his shoulder. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I vill need to do some minor surgery to remove zhe smaller shards," Medic said tiredly. "Engineer, vould you keep zhe medigun locked on Sniper for a bit?" He sat back, shoving aside the tray of little glass pieces.

Engineer aimed the medigun at Sniper and let it work its magic. I'd heard of such strange technology, such technology belonging to the Australians, who had harnessed the remarkable properties of _Australium _to leap ahead of the world in terms of technology. Are Redmond and Blutarch Australian? Perhaps they employed someone who was.

Medic glanced at me. "How is your foot?"

"Better," I said. "That medigun is rather useful, no?"

"Indeed. I use it to help vizh almost everyzhing-from bloody noses to severed limbs."

"Does it really reattach limbs?"

Medic grinned. "If you know how."


	5. Chapter 5: A Lightless Day

AN: Thanks again to _Lohr_, who corrected me on the French terms. I don't mind the corrections at all-I was trying to add personality to the Spy with the French, but obviously I've failed. :P I will be correcting past chapters at a later date. Sorry for butchering the French language.

"That was kinda weird."

We all sat around a battery-powered lamp in the medical bay. Medic was rummaging through his desk, pulling out flashlights.

"It's morning," I said, looking out the window at a sheet of dark blue.. "Why'd it suddenly get so dark? It looks like the sun just set."

Sniper frowned. "You've obviously never been in these parts before. When it goes pitch black its cause the clouds've gotten real thick. A storm's coming."

"A storm?" I yelped. I looked at the open window. "Then why are we all sitting around here? Shouldn't we go and shut the windows?"

"We need flashlights. Doc's go a bunch, so just hold on a second," Engineer murmured, tugging on his goggles.

I was rolling the situation over in my head. "I've never heard of clouds getting thick enough to make it dark out. And does the power normally go out when a storm approaches?"

Engineer smiled. "It happens once in a while. It gets real dark. I don't know the science behind it-I do metal and mechanics, not clouds and weather. The power's never gone out before, though. It's pitch black in the halls and some of the rooms without windows, though. I better check the fuse box." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't checked on the generator since I took over as Engineer, where I was required to check on every damn piece of equipment in the building."

"A generator?"

Scout snickered. "Where'd ya think we get our electricity, stupid?"

I almost snapped back at him, before remembering he was a member of the mercenary gang that just saved me. Alas, such is life. For some reason I'd thought of power lies, but they obviously didn't run up these cold mountains.

"Scout, don't be an ass," Engineer said sternly. He turned back to me. Behind him, Medic stubbed his finger and grumbled something in German. "The generator runs off of an australium core. It burns a fuel that's just 3% australium, but that's enough to keep it going for years. The fuel cell was still going strong-I doubt that's what made the power die." He seemed genuinely worried, which unnerved me even more.

A beam of blinding white light suddenly shone in my eyes.

"What the h-"

Medic lowered the flashlight. "Sorry. Everyvone, take a flashlight." He set a box full of flashlights, all now on, in front of us. I quickly grabbed a sturdy blue one. "Shut and seal zhe vindows...zhis vone is going to be strong."

"How bad is it going to be?" I asked, fearing the answer.

"A veak vone can blow in vindows, zhis vone will literally freeze anyzhing near zhe vindow if you let it blow in." He cocked his head in thought. "You stay vizh me." He turned away and began rummaging in his desk again.

I obediently stayed by Medic while the others scampered off. Demoman was clinging to Engineer to stay upright, and Soldier was reprimanding his flashlight.

"You are not bright enough to serve your _country_, private Flashlight! I will have you know that I have seen _elephants_ that shine brighter than you! _PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!"_

I stared at the man's retreating back.

Medic pressed some duct tape and a screw drive into my hands. "Don't mind him. Help me seal zhat vindow."

"With duct tape and a screw driver?"

Medic handed me a wooden board framed by steel and with bars reinforcing its length. The back of it was covered with more metal. On the sides were ridges with holes for screws. It was surprisingly light.

"I left a box of screws by zhe vindow. Use your light to see zhe holes. I need to seal up zhe vindow in my room." He glided off, clutching a hammer.

I quickly screwed the board in place, sealing out the cold, gentle air that gusted in. Outside, the snow was lit up with a pale, mysterious blue-as though the moon and sun had switched roles. I felt a strange sense of anticipation rush through me as I sealed the window.

Pyro hurried in, glancing at me for a moment before knocking on Medic's door.

Medic answered with nails in between his fingers.

"Ja? Oh-Herr Pyro. Vhat's zhe matter?"

"Mrrphmmmhph! _Hrrrck nrrrm! _Phhhrrn."

"Really?" Medic said, sounding incredibly tired. "Not again. How stupid can he be? I vill be zhere in a minute, thank you for telling me."

I watched pyro wander out, humming to him(?)self.

"How can you understand him?"

Medic shrugged. "You can actually recognize words if you try real hard. Zhey are just a little muffled."

I turned back to study my handywork, and satisfied, I turned back to Medic.

"So, what should I do now?"

Medic waved me over to his desk, where he handed me some duct tape and a large stack of cardboard pieces.

"Go around and seal up and cracks and reinforce smaller vindows."

"There are cracks in the building?"

"Zhere shouldn't be." He hurried off, coat billowing out behind him.

I looked around, hesitant for a moment, before venturing out into the building. It was impossible to get lost; everything was an interconnected series of hallways. Follow one path, and you'll eventually get _somewhere,_ only I wasn't sure I'd like where I ended up.

I rushed through the pitch-black hallways, passing innumerable doors-many unlabeled. The fluorescent lights up above gleamed dully when I shone my flashlight on them, seeming to mock me with criticizing eyes.

_It's dark, isn't it? So dark-you need a flashlight to get along. I'd help-but I'm dead, cold and frozen. Much like you should have been-am I right?_

I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts. I must've hit my head in the crash.

Eventually, I found myself in a large living room of sorts. There were no windows, so I assumed it was in the center of the structure somewhere.

Overstuffed easy chairs and torn couches sat haphazardly around the room. A fireplace lay silent and uncheery against the far wall.

I swept the beam of light around. Nothing here for me to do.

As I was about to leave, a flurry of movement in the dark caught my eye, followed by a rattling sound.

I think my heart tried to climb out of my nose.

I stood stock still, straining to hear something-to see something.

"Spy? You alright?"

I turned as Engineer appeared in the doorway, tense and literally ready to shoot the man, before relaxin. Perhaps I saw his shadow.

"Yes, thanks." I took one last glance around the dreary living room before following Engineer out into the hallway again.

Behind me, ever so faintly, I heard something clatter, like the collision of bones.

AN: When I started a sentence with "And" earlier, I let it stay and it was like a horrible spider sitting on my neck until I finished. Ugh.


	6. Chapter 6: Moderately Lost

I didn't need to see the storm to know when it hit. I didn't know what it looked like outside; I hadn't been out yet, but that didn't matter. The wind had slowly picked up over the span of an hour, and the howl, high-pitched and whistling reached us even deep in the structure's safety.

All of us save Engineer were gathered in the kitchen. Medic had brought out a hand-generator, and with Heavy sing his considerable strength to move the fridge, rewired the fridge to the hand generator. The generator could be turned by two people at once to create power, and Medic was trying to hook it up to the microwave as well.

Engineer had gone to the main generator room.

_"Ya'll go find a place to be snug now-I'm going to find what's wrong with the damn power. Save me some hot chocolate."_

To my immense relief, the sink still worked, albeit at a reduced water pressure. Most likely the toilets worked as well.

As I was filling a glass of water, I noticed little shards dropping into my glass.

"That's no good," a heavily accented voice said. Demoman handed me another glass, which I filled. "The pipelines may be freezin'."

I scowled. "We're going to lose water?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Medic murmured. I barely heard his soft voice over the faint hum and whine of the generator being turned. Soldier and Pyro worked hard at the large cranks. "Zhere is also a vater tank underground, vich is periodically refilled. If zhat freezes, ve are in trouble."

"How cold could it possibly get?"

"It is usually about negative nine or ten degrees celsius. 15 in fahrenheit. Vhen a big storm like zhis hits, zhings can get significantly colder...and no thermometer vill give you a good reading." He grunted, and I heard the click of a plug sliding into a socket. "Zhere ve go. You can microvave zhe vater now."

The glass I was holding was already turning my hand icy cold. "Do you usually stay in the kitchen?"

"It is best to stay in vone room to conserve heat and energy. Zhe kitchen is a bit cramped, so after ve get a drink ve usually move to zhe living room."

Heavy took his sandwich out the microwave and handed me a piece.

"Thanks," I said, biting into it. I looked out the smaller kitchen window. The large one over the sink had been sealed, but the small, circular one was made of thick glass and reinforced by steel rims, and was clearly meant to withstand abuse.

The wind continued to grow stronger, and soon I heard a faint pattering sound, as though small, soft objects were striking the side of the building. They grew louder as the minutes wore on.

Despite the incessant glare I got from the spy, the room was rather comfortable. The mercenaries were friendly enough, and though I was nervous about the storm, they reassured me it'd all be fine.

I've heard that line before. In fact-now that I thought about it, one of the air stewardesses had told me not to worry. Ironic that she most likely believed it, and was now lying dead and frozen in the mountains, while I-the unbelieving one-had survived. I wondered if I were to go out into the snow I'd perhaps find the ruined plane and the bodies. A craft full of people heading home, going to a meeting, visiting friends, and who knows what else.

I sipped the warm milk in my mug.

Medic had heated up a few cups of milk, but instead of handing them to us, sniffed and tasted each one. Two of the cups he poured away, cursing under his breath.

"Did it spoil?" I asked, as he handed me a cup that had passed his test.

"No," Medic replied flatly. "Some of it isn't milk." For some reason he glared daggers at the Scout, who returned the glare with an upturned middle finger.

There was an abrupt explosion from somewhere within the building, and the whole foundation shook.

Heavy gripped the counter, but Pyro tumbled backwards from the generator, slamming into Sniper, who in turned grabbed the Spy, dragging all three to the ground in a flailing, swearing heap.

I myself spilled a bit of milk-not that I was going to cry over it. The blast had been muted, almost, suggesting it had come from underground. That was what worried me the most.

"Should we investigate?" I asked, turning to Medic.

Only Medic wasn't there.

The others were gathering themselves together or untangling tangled limbs, but Medic had vanished. Strangely enough, so had Soldier.

I found Scout standing in a corner with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "Um-Scout, is it? Did you see where Medic and Soldier went?"

"Nope. Wasn't he talkin' to you?"

I shook my head, and peered out into the hallway. I grabbed my flashlight and decided to venture into the halls. With any luck something won't eat or kill me along the way.

I swear my brain is trying to scare itself.

"Wait up." Scout followed up behind me, completely expressionless. He said nothing as he fell in step beside me, and together our flashlights' beams sweeped the lonely halls.

"Most of these rooms are locked," Scout said at last. "I dunno what's in 'em. Engineer has the keys to most of them."

We continued on in silence, moving through the halls in search of the missing people. I wondered if Engineer was alright. The blast had definitely come from below, which was where the generator Engineer was checking on was.

Eventually, we moved past the unmarked, locked doors and found ourselves in a rec room. A pool table and and a dart board where on the ground, the table upended and the dart board in two pieces.

"Did that little shake do this?" I asked surveying the damage. A lamp had toppled over and crashed into a heater, denting and knocking over the device.

"No," Scout said. "Soldier and Demo got in a fight. Like they always do."

I looked at the wrecked table and decided never to annoy the patriot or the explosives expert, which is something I'd rather not do anyway.

"Think we should head back?" Scout asked, as we passed through the room.

I was about to reply when a faint noise stopped me.

"Hold on-no-_shhh_!"

We fell silent, and I heard it against-a scraping noise, like wood grinding against concrete. Then, I heard a soft moan.

Scout heard it too. "That was below us!"

I stared down at the paneled floors, and shook my head. "Are there any stairs down nearby?"

"Yeah-this way." Scout dragged me through a doorway and through a storage room. Another hallway just like the last greeted us. At the end, however, was an elevator.

"I said stairs, not elevator," I said, staring at the metal doors.

Scout pressed the call button a few times. "Same thing."

"Not quite," I said flatly. "One is a series of steps, and the other is metal box operating on a combination of electricity and good luck."

"It'll be fine, it only broke down twice before," Scout said. The door swung wide, and he bowed, gesturing me inside. "Ladies first."

I stepped in, and as Scout made to enter, the doors slammed shut.

I noticed the elevator lights were on, and that pleasant elevator music was playing. I also noticed that Scout's hand was caught in the door, and that he was screaming and cursing as he tried to tug his hands free-but that's unimportant.

Eventually, after I felt he'd suffered enough, I tried to pry the doors apart, but they stayed clamped on Scout's hand without budging an inch.

Scout's fingers twitched feebly.

"Oh God-I can't even feel 'em anymore!"

I studied the door for a moment. Oddly, the control panel was smooth metal, with no buttons save a button with a smiley face on it. "How does this thing work?"

"Press the face! _Press it!_"

"Okay, okay, geez. Calm down. You're acting like you got both hands stuck."

I drowned out the stream of curses that followed, and pushed in the smiling face.

A whirr and a click gave way to a brand new control panel popping out of the smooth metal. I pressed the open button experimentally.

It didn't work, though I hadn't expected it to.

"GET THIS THING OPEN!"

I was genuinely becoming worried now. Not for Scout's hand, but the fear I might be trapped here considerably longer than I'd like. Then I heard approaching footsteps, stopping just in front.

"Wha-hey! Wait!"

Two massive hands gripped the doors, and I heard a loud grunt of exertion. Metal groaned, pistons creaked, and chains ground against their gears.

A moment later, the doors were torn open with a resounding crash, and Scout stumbled back, trying simultaneously to cradle his hands and hide his face.

Heavy rubbed his hands together, and then shook his bald head slowly, like an elephant irritated by a fly.

"Why you use elevator? Bad idea after blast, things may have broken." He picked up his flashlight and motioned for me to get out. "Come. We use stairs, and look for doctor and cow man."

"'Cow man'?"

I followed Heavy, after sparing a moment to examine Scout's hands. They didn't seem to damaged, but were far from healthy. They were turning black in some spots.

"Does it hurt?"

Scout called me something rather unkind.

"Doktor went to find Engineer, I think," Heavy said suddenly. We were at a set of stairs. He motioned us past, and looked over Scout's hands. "Doktor will fix your tiny hands."

We hurried down several flights. It seemed to last forever, and my feet were uncertain in the darkness. Even with the flashlights, the tight confines of the stairwell made the darkness seem all the more oppressive. At some point, I felt that'd we'd been walking for minutes.

"How far down is this generator?" I asked incredulously. Climbing up was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Is long way down-but you can try elevator again if you don't like," Heavy suggested.

"Right, right. Are you alright, Scout?"

Scout seemed pale, and flinched when I shone the beam in his face.

"Yeah, yeah, get going."

"Suit yourself."

After a couple more minutes had passed, Heavy muttered, "Slow down."

I turned back to ask what was wrong.

Then the stairs ended abruptly, and I felt a surge of speed as I plummeted down into the emptiness.

AN: Felt a bit run-offy when I read over it. Will try to fix that. Thanks for reviews so far.


	7. Chapter 7: Two Months

_ "Keep your voices down-you don't vant to vake him."_

Hell. My head hurts.

_"What the hell did you do to my hand?"_

_ "I gave you anesthesia."_

_ "Yeah, but how come I can't feel it?"_

_ "Anesthesia numbs you. It vill go avay soon."_

Who's talking so loudly? I wish they'd stop...my head won't stop pounding.

_ "Doktor, I have heard others. I tell them bring ladder or rope."_

_ "Zhank you, Heavy."_

_ "They better bring some food. I starving."_

_ "You just ate seven chocolate bars."_

_ "I'm a growing guy. I need food."_

_ "Actually, you are done growing."_

_ "Shaddup-what do you know?"_

_ "I'm a doctor."_

There are footsteps. There's a bright light trying to break through my eyelids. My blood feels like rubber, slogging through my veins and clogging my mind.

_ "Doc, fix my foot!"_

_ "I did."_

_ "It still hurts!"_

The irritating voices are getting clearer.

"Hold still-okay, zhere. How does zhat feel?"

"Still hurts."

I shifted my weight. I seemed to be rocking. A slow, steady swaying movement gave me a disoriented feeling. My eyes managed to creep open a bit, and I saw that I was on a brown hammock in a brightly lit room.

My mouth felt oddly gummed up, as though someone had sucked it dry and stuck glue in between my lips. I painfully ripped my cracked lips apart, tasting dried blood at the edges of my mouth.

"What...when?"

Three heads swiveled to meet my tired stare.

"Don't move," Medic said. He pressed something cold against the side of my head. "Ve vill have you out of here soon. At least you voke up. Perhaps zhere is no serious brain damage. But your neck…"

My blood ran cold. "What about my neck?"

"Do not vorry, you'll ve fine."

I moved my fingers experimentally. I shifted my arms and legs without issue. "I can still move and feel my lower body."

"You landed on your upper back, vizh heavy impact to your head, along vizh heavy pressure on zhe neck." He made a _tsk_ sound between his teeth. "If I had my medigun…."

I turned, feeling no pain from my neck but deciding I'd best do as he said and not move. "We came down to look for you and the Engineer. Is he here?"

The room was lit by fluorescent lights, and steel grey walls enclosed us in a small room. A gap in the walls (Literally-it looks like they just forgot a wall segment.) served as a doorway.

"Engineer is alive. However, you vill notice it is razher quiet. Zhe generator is in zhe next room."

"So the generator is dead?" I may be a stranger here, but I know it's never good to have no electricity on a frozen mountain range. "How are these lights functioning?"

"Zhese are connected to an emergency battery."

"Doc, my leg hurts."

Medic sighed, and turned back to the attention-seeker in a blue shirt.

I shivered from the cold air hanging dead and still in the room. Heavy draped a massive jacket over me, which undoubtedly was made for him. If anyone else had worn it they'd have gotten lost in it.

"Doctor and Engineer are smart men," Heavy said confidently. "They fix generator soon."

"Yeah, then why's Engie bleeding his fucking guts out?" Scout snapped, voice tense.

I stared at the boy. "Bleeding? Where is Engineer, anyway?"

"Please Scout," Medic said, a note of exhaustion in his voice. "Now is not the time. I hope the others find a rope soon. I can't move Engineer, and it will take too long to set something to haul him up."

Something struck me as odd about how Medic said that, but the thought slipped away before I could ponder it. "So there was a fall, huh?"

"Tiny stairwell collapsed," Heavy said huffily. "Too weak from age, knocked out by blast. You not looking where you walk."

"Fine, fine," I grumbled. "And Engineer?"

All voices fell silent, until at last Scout burst out, "He's lying in the generator room with his belly messed up as hell." He shrugged. "Looks like something tried ta' gut him."

"He was injured in the blast, of course he's 'messed up'."

"Naw," Scout said. "The generator went and blew, but it just gave him a few burns, no scratches or anything. Just that one big slice across his gut. Looks nasty. Guy oughta be dead."

"Something must have come loose and cut him then!" Medic hissed. "Now stop, you're not helping him by talking."

"Shouldn't you be attending to him?"

Heavy shook his big head. "Cow man is buried under lots of metal, lots of rock. Can see him through holes-too heavy to lift rocks."

"When the others get the rope, they will haul you out and lower down my medigun," Medic said. "Demoman and Heavy are going to help me get the rock out of the way." He was sweating now, beads of moisture making his forehead seem to glow and his thick black hair damp. "But we are working against time. Engineer will bleed out soon."

I would hate to be Engineer, lying under the metal and concrete, slowly bleeding to death and knowing that his friends (Could any of these mercenaries be considered friends?) were so close yet unable to help.

"Hey lads! We've got a rope! You down there? Heavy? Medic? Get your arses to the stairs if ye' want out!"

Heavy hobbled out into the corridor leading to the stair space. Only now did I notice that he walked strangely, favoring his left leg over his right, and dragging the limb ever so slightly as he went.

"Did something happen to Heavy's leg?"

Medic snorted. "They're both blind. He and Scout both tumbled down right after you. Slow reflexes." He looked worriedly at the hallway. "I hope they brought the medigun. Even conventional medical supplies would be lovely.

My brow creased in a frown as I thought over the matter. "Even if you get your medigun, how will you help Engineer? He may well bleed out before Demoman can help dig him out."

"The medigun uses a beam. I can heal him right through the gaps."

I nodded. The australium technology continued to amaze me. A stray thought hit me. "Before I forget," I began, trailing off as I struggled to word my question.

Medic raised an eyebrow.

"Well," I said. "When do you suppose I can go home?"

"Ah," Medic said. "Well, we can simply send you back with the company transport. They will be up to deliver supplies in a couple of months."

"A couple of _months?_" I yelped. Life was too short to spend two months in this frozen wasteland. I wasn't even being paid! "How do you all even stay sane, cooped up in the same facility for so long?"

"Most psychologists agree that isolation with several others does eventually lead to mental breakdown and...violence," Medic said carefully. "However, Builders League United does a careful psyche test on its employees. Most of us don't mind the conditions because we've got some personality trait that suits the situation. Maybe we're extremely apathetic, and just don't care. Perhaps we're absolutely focused on the paycheck, and won't bother starting anything."

I laughed, stopping when my voice seemed to echo. "I don't believe for a minute that you can stay sane for months up in these icy goddamned mountains."

Medic cocked his head thoughtfully for a few moments, then smiled. "Perhaps we're all already insane, then."

I clamped my mouth shut, and watched silently as the man stood and glided out of the room.

AN: Too many ideas, all mashed up. Can't get any sleep lately, so writing. Starting to show, though. Jumped when I saw myself in the mirror. Doubt sleeplessness is good writing fuel, but worth a shot.


	8. Chapter 8: Snow and Ice

A Few Days Ago

* * *

Alexander Gorokhov is a simple man. Every morning he wakes up at a quarter to seven, and works out in the gym for thirty minutes. Afterwards, he douses himself in icy cold water, as he can't stand warm things, whether it be temperature or shower.

Simplicity is criticized by those famous, educated professors sitting in their overstuffed chairs, sipping their expensive teas and residing amongst their fellow educated man. After all, those professors reasoned, if you were not educated, what were you? Clearly you must be a brainless barbarian. Of course, from those educated minds sprung the seeds of hatred, wars, and discrimination-but few people considered that when they carved statues of egotistical bastards sitting in oil-lit rooms. Thus it was that Alexander had become a mercenary, unable to stand the overbearing watch of his more highbrow mother. His father had been a soldier, which was where Alexander got his natural size and strength. All his mother's inherited money did little to make him sit in school and study things he knew were not needed.

Life, Alexander thought, was too short to spend in a classroom learning why snow fell, and how to find the solution to a quadratic set.

Alexander prided himself on his "uneducated" and "barbaric" mind. He was calm by nature, expressing few emotions (Which he saw as overdramatized by actors and politics.) and always thinking long before acting. Very few things bother Alexander, and if anyone thinks otherwise, they dare not say so in his presence.

All of these things make Alexander out to be an unshakable, infallible man.

Alexander woke up one morning and followed his usual routine. He tugged on his boots and bundled himself up in as much clothing as he dared; too much padding could restrict his movement. That could mean a bullet taken that might have been dodged, or a fall down a cliff where a ledge might have been grabbed.

Out into the snow they went. Fortunately, bad weather had subsided and the sun beat on them, light without warmth. Over the flat areas they went, keeping carefully away from the cliff edges. It was never quite clear _where_ the true cliff edge was. Ice and snow added deceptive distance to the cliff's actual edge. Alexander had seen the enemy team's Demoman plummet over the side on his first day of combat.

There was no reason to search for a body.

When the tireless hours of people firing large weapons and nobody actually dying were out, he began the trek back to base, easily half an hour of long walking, but he was not a man to complain about such things.

Then he heard the engines.

Up in these cold mountain ranges (Alexander does not know where in the world they are. As long as he is paid when this is done, he does not care.) there is almost never any sign of civilization. Aside from the enemy team, and the people he works with, he won't see another soul until his contract expires.

That's what he hopes for, anyway. Though he does not specifically dislike people, he dislikes their incredibly limited thinking. It seemed to him that far too often people could only see what sat right under their noses and not an inch farther.

Even that was too kind, he felt.

Regardless, he did not expect to hear the scream of struggling jet engines fighting to retain altitude.

Alexander watched the plane's approach as it bucked and struggled in the wind. This area was not illegal to fly in, but he was surprised anyone would choose a route through these mountains. The strong winds were channeled by the mountain tops and innumerable to create powerful tempests that would batter anything coming near the mountain range. Even on the clearest of days, the wind was inescapable. It gained power from the numerous curves and ridges across the mountain range, which served as funnels to channel and amplify the wind's power to absurd proportions.

Alexander looked on as the nose of the plane dipped down. The wings seemed to wobble, and the pilots attempted to correct their angle. For a moment, it looked like they had managed it, before a gust of snow and sleet knocked it back down.

Engine turbines howled, and the wind lent its ghastly voice to the chaos. Many of the combatants had stopped fighting and were now staring at the approaching jet.

The pilots applied force from one side, trying to turn the plane, and perhaps climb from a different direction, but a heavy blast of wind sent them down again. One of the engines, the right side, gave out just then, and the plane tilted ever so slightly. It rocketed towards the mountains and Alexander as the snow continued its fury.

In one last desperate measure, the pilots applied reverse thrust to at least bring the nose of the plane up, but then the plane simply failed them as ice clogged the turbines and the distressed plane surrendered to nature. The jet's left wing clipped a jagged rock cropping, tearing off half the wing and sending the smoking wires careening into the distance. The pilots were no longer piloting a plane, Alexander mused. They were now sitting in a metal coffin, with Alexander the silent onlooker.

As the plane passed, Alexander caught the flash of a face pressed against the glass, one of the pilots, eyes wide and mouth locked in an unheard scream as the massive metal bird sped over Alexander. Alexander met the panicked eyes with a blank stare. He tracked the plane with his eyes as it blew right over the nearby cliff edge, just grazing a small outhouse situated on the edge of the rock.

At that point, the wind died enough for the plane to plummet down and deep off the mountain side. A 1400 foot fall with a field of jagged stone awaited them.

Alexander stood at the edge staring down into the abyss. Light was uneven, and many parts of the gorge were eclipsed in shadow, invisible to the casual onlooker.

Alexander could not hear the impact, nor see it. However, deep within his mind, he felt the lives of 200 people smash to an end as he stood there on the cliff, the cold, cold world blowing its furious sleet in a swirl around him.

Medic stood by Alexander, bright eyes glinting. His brows creased in a strange, pensive expression. He looked wizard-like, Alexander decided. A certain air of unusualness lent itself to the small man. Medic abruptly turned and walked away, but not before whispering to Alexander, _"Find some climbing gear."_

Alexander Gorokhov wondered why someone put an outhouse on the edge of a cliff.


	9. Chapter 9: If it Burns

"Anyone still alive down there?"

I started, and sat up. I regretted it immediately, as dizziness washed over me.

Heavy caught me as I toppled off the bench I'd been laid on.

"Wait, doctor get medigun soon."

Somewhere, I heard a deep thrum, like the slow beating of a heart.

Medic hurried out, Scout in tow. In the stairwell, I heard the clattering of metal against concrete.

"Vait! Don't _zhrow_ zhem, idiots!" Medic yelled. He swore, and walked back in, holding his medigun. "If zhere's a dent I vill fix it by bashing it against your skulls!"

"Where's Scout?" I asked.

"He's going back up. After I heal you, you vill as vell."

"And Engineer?"

Medic glanced back into the hallway. "He'll be fine. Now hurry up, I must fix you before Engineer bleeds out."

I rolled on my side to stare down the medigun's barrel. A blue wisp burst out of it, blinding me, and then all of a sudden the ache in my head the the dull thud I'd been hearing was gone.

Suddenly sleepy, I rolled back onto my back and sighed. My eyelids dropped, and all the murmuring voices faded to nothing.

Someone's screaming. I wish they'd stop.

_"...water!"_

_ "..ozen…"_

All this yelling can't possibly be good for my health.

_"It's got to fuel stores!"_

_ "Going to explode! Get moving!"_

Why won't they shut up? Don't they know it's rude to bother a sleeping person? I cracked open one eye, but it was pitch-black.

"What's going on?" I asked sleepily. Nobody responded, but now I could hear the voices more clearly, albeit still muffled.

"Where's the guy from the airplane?"

That voice was just outside the room, for it seemed I was indeed in a room.

"I'm in here," I called out. I felt my way to the edge of the bed, and carefully lowered my feet to the ground. Luckily, I was fully dressed. "Someone out there?"

Light suddenly flooded the room, and from the far wall a door was opened. Sniper was holding a lantern, and the bright blaze of the bulb stung my eyes.

"Could you turn that down?" I asked, shielding myself from the light.

"No time. We've got t'get out of here-now!"

There was no doubt about the tenseness in his voice. He spun around on his heels and dashed out back into the hall.

"What happened?" I asked, hurrying after Sniper into the hallway.

"Fire, and that's the worst thing that could happen right now," Sniper said tersely. His glasses glinted, and spots of light danced across the walls. "It's spread to the generator room and the storage. If we don't get out in the next couple of minutes, the only thing left of us will be melting bones."

The hallway was incredibly cold, and remarkably dark as well. Somewhere I could now hear crackling, and I had a horrible flashback to the plane crash. Trapped in a dark chamber, feeling the rush of terror, and hear the screech of dying engines.

We rounded another bend, and Sniper slammed into Heavy. He lamp crashed down and shattered.

"Bloody he-why'd you come back in?" Sniper snapped. He took Heavy's flashlight and all three of us ran for the exit.

"How on earth can a fire start in this icy place?" I demanded, shivering in spite of the unseen blaze now eating away at the building.

I could not see it then, but had I the chance to, I would have spotted the bright orange tongues licking at the ceiling, the carpet curling, turning brown, and wisping away. The wallpaper disintegrated, crackling in its death throes, still clinging to the walls despite the flames.

"Almost impossible to start a fire outside," Sniper growled. His footsteps echoed loudest, his hard-soled shoes clacking against the metal floor. He'd drawn a bit far ahead, since I was still working the kinks out of my muscles. "Inside, there's plenty of things to burn, and it's easy enough to get a flame going."

"So, one of us?"

"If it is, I'm gonna find the one who did it and-"

A huge, echoing blast resounded through the building.

"Look out!" Heavy billowed, turning around to face sniper and myself.

Sniper looked up, mouth agape, as aluminum plates fell away from the ceiling, and the wooden timbers above, all of a sudden horribly orange and bright, fell away and towards Sniper.

"Get away!" I shouted.

Sniper looked at me, expression still dazed, and took a step, but too late.

The ceiling beam slammed down onto his back, pinning him to the floor. His head turned towards me, eyes wide, and he coughed once.

Twice.

Then, he was still, and I watched as the walls sagged around him, burying him under more wood and more metal.

AN: I can't believe 'wisping' isn't a word.


	10. Chapter 10: Thus I Knew You

Wood splintered, and metal beams shrieked as they were heated, slowly twisting and curling within themselves. The horrible, acrid smell of burning paint and wallpaper filled the hallways.

There was no air, no air to breathe.

The cold, that icy, yet now calming cold was gone.

The passageway was my tomb, and my cremation chamber.

"Get up!"

I twisted my head around, aware that I was lying on my chest. My lungs drew in air, but that air gave me no life.

Cold hands, icy cold, grabbed my head and raised it. None too gently, those fingers forced an oxygen mask onto my face, and tightened the straps around my head. Oxygen-wondrous oxygen! flooded my lungs, and my head cleared for a brief euphoric moment.

I was manhandled to my feet and dusted off, and my eyes focused on two men standing by me. Medic and Heavy stood there, Heavy pushing aside the burning wreckage of the collapsed corridor.

"Let's go!" Medic shouted over the roar of the fire.

Heavy's hands were blistering, and the skin was red where it was simply burning away, but he seemed to take no notice. He held up an entire section of the sagging wall, waving us past.

Medic glanced at me, and I started. He looked different, but in a way I couldn't pin down.

"Are you burnt anywhere?" he yelled. I almost didn't hear him over the crackling. He didn't wait for a response, and continued running. I struggled to follow, feeling winded.

Heavy dropped the wall section and ran behind us shepherding us out a fire exit.

The freezing wind struck me like a million razor-sharp knives. slicing my skin open, but no blood would fall nor would any vessel break. My eyes stung, and I had to shut them.

Snow blew around, but there were no comforting snowflakes here. Shards of ice whipped around our arms and faces, accompanied by the shrieking of wind and wail of distant thunder.

Thunder in a snowstorm?

All the others were gathered out upon the ice, tiny huddled masses against the stark white mountain, flecked as it was with grey and brown stone.

All eyes were blank, but could anyone blame them? Orange and red flickered in the dark pupils of nine pairs of eyes. A strange, yet unwanted warmth battered us from the front, while an infinite, dreadful cold ate at our backs.

For a while, we all stood, deep in our individual thoughts. Myself, I wondered how it would have been had the others not thought to find me. What of Sniper?

"...aun Walker."

I turned, and looked into the grim eyes of our doctor. In his eyes, all of a sudden dark, nothing was reflected.

"What did you say?" I asked softly. The wind seemed to snatch my words away and hurl them into the uncaring mountains, but he heard them regardless.

"His name was Shaun Walker." Medic crossed his arms. "You will have known him as 'Sniper'." His feet drew an arc in the snow, and he bit his lower lip, and said no more.

I turned back to stare at the collapsing building. The downpour of white, visible in the dark of night only because of the bonfire that now ate at our-my-home.

Was it my home?

Yes, it had been, for the shortest of times. How easily had I slipped into place there, amongst strange people in a strange place in a strange time.

A sharp, loud voice interrupted our thoughts, snapping us all to attention.

"Sebastian!"

It was not a call, but a shriek, and I winced at how sharp it sounded. All eyes turned as about a hundred meters away, the pale white snow was disturbed by a figure poking its head out of the snow. Dark against the white, it scrambled out, tall and lanky. It shook itself off, and ran at us.

"_Vhat zhe hell are you doing, _Sebastian?" the figure screamed again. It was too dark to see him, but a few more steps and he would be in the fire's light.

We all crowded together, all weaponless save pyro, who had somehow salvaged his flamethrower.

The figure was suddenly revealed in a flash, as he stepped into the brightness of the fire. It was our Medic!

I whirled around to face the man standing behind me, who looked at the approaching figure with a small, sad smile.

Suddenly forgetting the cold, my head swiveled between the two figures.

"Oi, what trickery is this?" Demoman yelled as the other Medic stopped a few feet away from the group. "Come to mock us, eh red? Thought ye'd beat us while we're down?"

Heavy pulled the Medic behind me closer to him, and snarled at the other man.

Something was different though. I squinted at the figure, taking in his near-identical appearance. The uniform was the same. The hair was the same. The face was remarkably similar. There was, perhaps, the fact that the Medic with the group looked thinner.

The Meic behind me extricated himself from Heavy's grip. He turned to me, and smiled again, and I saw it then-his eyes were dark, one brown, one grey. I thought the Medic's eyes were blue?

Striding forward, the Medic with us approached the other man, who had stood silent until now.

We all watched as the two stared each other down for minutes that dragged on. The chill bit into us. It was probably below zero, but none dared say anything. The two men continued to face each other.

The one with us, "Sebastian", stood loosely and shoulders slumped, like a defeated man after a fight. The other one stood tall and erect, shoulders broader and fists clenched. Then, he drew a hand back.

The slap rang out incredibly loud in the frozen landscape, and Sebastian toppled backwards into the snow, where he lay still. I saw his eyes, still open, flicker to us, and then back up at the dark sky.

The other man faced us. "Let's go. Ve'll freeze if ve stare out here. Gazher vhat you can. Ve'll need to eizher go down zhe mountain or seek zhe reds for help."

He strode towards the edge of the wreckage, still burning, and began nudging aside metal with his foot. When none of us moved to help him, he turned to face us, face livid.

"What are you _doing? _Get moving! Schnell!" he yelled, teeth bared and eyes wide.

Murmurs rose amongst the group. Engineer suddenly darted forward, seemingly better. Such was the technology of the Australians, that someone bleeding to death a few hours ago was whole and hale now.

The Spy lit a cigarette and looked cooly at the other Medic. "Who are you, then, mon ami?"

"Your Medic, in case you have forgotten!" The Medic shouted.

Heavy clenched his fists, eyes narrowed.

"Wait," a soft voice said. I recognized it now, for now the two voices were as different as day and night. One was strong, commanding, and confident. The other, accentless, and soft, the voice of someone used to bowing his head to others. Once, they had been one and the same, both casually dealing out diagnosis. But they belonged to two bodies, one whose hands had dragged me out of the plane wreckage and breathed life back into my battered form, and the other, who had scowled at the inconvenience but bandaged the wounds all the same.

Sebastian sat up, seeming to need help from Engineer. Surely a slap wouldn't have hurt him that badly?

His head swiveled to us, and we all leaned in instinctively. Sebastian looked old, oh so old. His voice failed him the first time, and all we heard was a dry wheeze. The second time he spoke more clearly, more clearly than I had ever heard someone speak with the wind knocked out of them.

"That is my twin brother, Silas Everhart. You are looking at his pathetic sibling, Sebastian Everhart."

AN: I apologize for the blatant filler of the last chapter. Really.


	11. Chapter 11: The March

AN: Regarding Medic's appearance: This particular story assumes Mann Co repeatedly hires and replaces their mercenaries, resulting in different people that may not match game description. Sorry for any confusion caused.

"Alright, stop talking. Now," Engineer ordered. He looked up, eyes obscured by goggles and expression carefully blank. "You all best get yourselves searching for anything that might've survived the blast." He turned to Silas, the healthier looking of the two medics. He tilted his head, staring for a moment, before grunting in irritation and turning away.

"Vhat?" Silas snapped.

"Nothing. You just looked familiar, thas' all."

"Of course I look familiar," Silas said, striding back to the edge of the wreckage. "I'm your Medic."

"Or so you say," Engineer said softly, barely audible.

Sebastian was ominously still, and while the others began combing through collapsed metal (I was surprised how fast fire brought down this sturdy looking shelter.) for supplies. I approached Engineer and crouched down by Sebastian. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Something's wrong," Engineer said. He pressed his ungloved hand to Medic's neck. "His pulse is real weak-like. He's running a fever too." Then, he seemed to have a sudden idea, and quickly began unbuttoning Medic's coat.

"What are you doing?" I asked, exasperated. "Now's not the time to check if he has a six-oh mon dieu."

Sebastian's torso was a jigsaw puzzle of stitches and scars. Lines crossed every part of him, and tiny little notches showed where he'd been stitched carefully back together. One particularly noticeable scar ran sideways, just above his navel. The scar was an angry red, and a little blackened on the edges.

"Whatever made this cut got it infected too," Engineer muttered. He swore colorfully, and then turned back to me. "Go see if you can find the medigun. That part of the building is still burning, but hell, go look anywhere. We're gonna need it."

I nodded, still stunned from the sight. What did that to him? Many of the stitches were too straight, too neat to have been accidental. On a whim, I asked Engineer, "Do you remember what happened in the generator room earlier?"

Engineer pursed his lips. "Can't rightly say I can. It's all a bit fuzzy."

"Right, never mind then," I said. I hurried over to the smoking base.

"There isn't really all that much left of this place," Demoman said. He pushed aside a wooden beam. I believe what we were standing in was a bathroom. At least, that's what I think the toilet was for. "Bloody stars-we're not gonna get anything here, lad."

I gingerly opened a dented medicine cabinet. I snagged the bottles within, not really caring what they were, and shoved them in my pocket. It still hadn't occurred to me what exactly we were going to do. Mercifully, the snow had lessened, but that wouldn't change the fact that we were stuck in the freezing cold without shelter.

Demoman suddenly cheered, and I spun around.

"I found some scrumpy, lad! 1942, good stuff!" He popped the cork and started chugging.

Annoyed, I turned back to the search. The fire had just gutted the building. Shaky frames and pillars stood here and there, but everywhere else was a mess of collapsed beams and ceiling tiles. In just an hour, the flames had turned a sturdy looking compound into a pile of scrap metal.

Silas was a short ways away, digging through the remains of a storage room. I looked at him with dislike. He had a nasty feel to him. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way, and I sensed it was the same for the others. Even the spy had seemed suspicious.

The images of Sniper being crushed under the beams kept intersecting with the thoughts of Sebastian's puzzle-piece body. I tried not to think too hard about it, but the images kept crawling back into my mind.

"Sniper is lucky, I think." The deep voice made me jump, but I was glad to recognize it as Heavy. "We will all wish we were dead in a day or two."

"I could have done without that last part," I grumbled, and kicked an empty can out of the way.

"You could not have helped him."

"Could I, though? I mean, I could have grabbed his hand and just pulled, really quickly, or something like that," I said despairingly. "I don't even know any of you that well, but I just…I don't know."

"Soon, you know us better than you ever wanted to know us," Heavy said wisely. He put a bulky hand on my shoulder. "Will not be easy to reach Red base. Will take much time to get there in storm. Storm lessen now, stronger later. Unless miracle, we die within two, three days."

"Glad you're so confident."

"You've got pills? Well _give 'em to me_, dammit!" Engineer practically screamed in my face. He seemed incredibly tense ever since we all finished searching a couple of hours later. At that point, most of us were blue in the fingers and rapidly weakening. Scout was in a T-Shirt, so Engineer demanded he take his own coat.

"You'll freeze!" Scout insisted, trying to shove the coat back.

"I'm from Texas, boy. I'm tougher than that." But we all knew he wasn't.

I handed Engineer all the pill bottles I'd collected. He sorted through them rapidly. "Good…plenty of antibiotics. Technically shouldn't mix them, but we'll have to make do. Why are there so many damn sleeping pills in here?"

He was holding a jug someone had brought him, and with pyro's help melted a bunch of snow. He lifted Sebastian's head, and popped a couple of pills into the man's mouth. "Swallow 'em. Don't you dare throw up on me."

Pyro had a merry blaze going. Unnervingly, he was using some dried limbs that had been on display in the medical bay. I watched in horrified fascination as a severed hand slowly withered and blackened in the fire.

"Warm up fingers, or you lose fingers!" Heavy roared over at Engineer and myself.

"Come on," I said. "I can help you carry him."

"Nah, he's real light. I got him." His jaw was set and he said nothing else as we joined the others at the fire. Some people are practically transparent, easy to read. Engineer is not one of them.

I sat by the campfire, feeling thoroughly chilled. Only now that I'd stopped moving did I realize just how cold I was. My hands refused to respond to my commands, and my entire body trembled incessantly.

"So, what happens now?" Heavy asked aloud, shattering the silence. The big man sat on a rock, arms crossed. "We find reds?"

We'd gathered a miserable collection of materials. Some cans, some matches, and a few bottles of water. The water was already freezing. Someone had found a couple of shotguns.

"The moment we show up there," Spy murmured. "We will receive a bullet to the face."

"It is only chance to live," Heavy responded. He ignored Spy's scoff.

Silas cleared his throat. "Ve vill not survive very long like zhis. Ve must find zhe reds. Zhat is clear. However, a normally two to four hour valk vill become an endless nightmare in zhis snowstorm."

"We know the way," Spy pointed out. He blew a puff of smoke at Silas's face. The man scowled and waved the cloud away. "We just stay on track, and hope for the best, non?"

"We best start now, before it gets worse later," Engineer said morosely. He looked at the half dead man in his lap, and then looked accusingly at Silas. "I'd ask you to carry this guy, but I think you'd throw him off the first cliff we find, huh?"

Silas's eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

I looked up at the clouds, hoping silently that the skies would have mercy and ease the storm for a while. However, the sky has no mind for pity, and even as I thought that the snow began to fall again in earnest.

* * *

I never thought I could be so cold. As we march, every time I must lift my foot feels like dragging a block of concrete up. The snow is deep, and our feet sink in a good 10-12 inches with every step, and the bitter wind saps our strength. The one good thing was the discovery of boots, or snowshoes, whatever they're called. Tough and well designed for trapping heat, they kept my feet warm enough to function. Even so, they went numb within the first hour.

It's almost impossible to see, and the only indication of time is the absolute lack of light. During the day, the clouds would glow faintly. Now, we have just the light of a few flashlights to guide us.

Every few steps we have to stop and get our bearings, or risk plunging off the side of the mountain. We're taking the path that leads up to the main battlefield, but we can't possibly be managing more than a quarter of a mile per hour. Somehow, we keep getting turned around in the dark, and the winding, maze-like mountain trails so good for keeping out enemies now traps it inhabitants. It's so dark I can't see my hand in front of my face without a light on. At one point, when we stop to do a quick headcount, I walk face first into a dead tree when the lights go off.

As the third hour goes by, I go to Engineer. He's been carrying Sebastian most of the past three hours, and he's the one who was injured just before the fire.

"Do you need me to carry him?" I ask. The howling wind steals my words away, and he gives me a blank stare. I tear my lips open again to speak, wincing as the dried flesh cracks and bleeds. The blood doesn't have a chance to trail down my chin, however. It crystallizes immediately. "_Do you need me to carry him?"_

Heavy overhears me, and marches over to snatch Sebastian out of Engineer's arms. "I take doctor, we go now." That was the end of that.

I see Silas's eyes dart over to us, and then away when his gaze meets mine. Something unnerves me about the man. The slap at the beginning can perhaps be just tension, or brotherly distaste, but there are many questions still unanswered. Now, however, asking anything would be a waste of breath. I resolve to keep an eye on Silas anyway. Reluctantly, I prepare to get moving again. My limbs are so heavy that a long rest sounds great right now, but something deep within me is deathly afraid of lying down to sleep.

_Lie down, and you won't get up,_ my mind whispers. I know it's right.

* * *

The next phase of the journey is just downright terrifying. After getting lost, we wind up on the side of the mountain, with a sheer drop on our left, the smooth, ungraspable mountainside on our right. The path beneath our feet is at best a meter wide, and I can feel sweat pop out on my forehead as we inch along. Even the sweat, however, chills and freezes on my face.

It isn't long until Spy points out a familiar route (Or familiar to the team, anyway. I'm the new guy.) and our hearts are lifted. The coats and boots we salvaged are the only reason we haven't frozen yet, but time is of essence. It should be just a half hour march or so to the battlefield on a clear day. Shame it's not clear, nor is it day.

"Zhis isn't zhe road ve vant," Silas says tersely. We've arrived at last at the mouth of an incredible valley. So spacious and wide is it that I can almost sense the huge emptiness in front of me, even if I can hardly see it. "Ve took a left at zhe Deadmark Crossing, ja?"

"I think so," Demoman said. Demoman has been sipping from a bottle the whole walk. I wonder that he can still stand straight. "I can't feel my thumbs, laddie."

"Nobody found the medigun, so we'll just have to make do," Engineer said. He shifted from one foot to another. "At the other end of this valley is the main road, we can-"

"Fuck this!"

All heads turn to Scout, who has sat himself down in the snow, arms crossed.

"Oh come on now, _le garcon_," Spy said, uncharacteristically reasonable. "Now is not the time for this. We must move, or die."

"I'm done. We should've stopped for a fucking break a while back anyway!" Scout rasped. The dryness of his voice reminds me we haven't had a drink for hours, and Engineer notices too.

"Alright ya'll, we all need a drink. Hell, we should've had a drink every hour. I completely forgot." Engineer began rummaging through his bag and took out a canteen. "You all take a couple of mouthfuls. No-not you Heavy, I got one for you." He drew out a separate canteen and handed it to the giant. Heavy uncapped it and drained the whole thing in one go, and seemingly in just one swallow.

We passed the canteen around, and even Soldier, who had been remarkably quiet the whole way, took only his fair share. When I drank, it felt insanely cold, and seemed almost to burn as it went down. I reluctantly took two gulps and handed it off to the Spy, who took it without a word.

Scout was sitting and staring into a small cave forlornly. He hadn't taken any water, and nobody made a move to offer him any. I glanced at Engineer, who handed me a small bottle and motioned to Scout. Shrugging, I made my way over.

I crouched down by the boy, and handed him the small bottle. "Need some water?"

He looked at the label, and then quickly opened and drained it. He sat back with a burp. Silence followed, during which I eased myself into sitting position beside him. I massaged my sore thighs, feeling (or rather, not feeling) stiffness deep within my muscles. "This whole thing's insane," Scout said at last.

I didn't know how to respond, but I didn't need to. Scout did the talking for me.

"Every one of these guy's is crazy. You better hope you don't get stuck with 'em too long." He sneezes, and I notice his coat is gone.

"Where's your coat?"

"I don't know. I took it off just now." I feel him shift beside me and begin searching the ground with his hands. The others are replacing the flashlight batteries, and it's almost pitch-black. "Shit…where'd I put it?"

I help him search, crawling around a bit. Neither of us dared go far without light, so our hands kept getting tangled and we literally butt heads twice. I must have just looked silly, because when one of the lights went back on and we could see again, Scout burst out laughing at me. Then, he broke off hacking. The cough sounded wet, and I frowned. "That doesn't sound too good."

"I'm fine. There's my coat." He grabbed the clothing from a rock he'd draped it over. He struggled put it on, sneezing as he went. Then, as he zipped up and tried to button the outer layer, his fingers failed him. Cold and looking a little blue, they were clearly numb, and he fumbled for a while with the buttons before swearing and giving up.

Sighing I went over and tried to button them for him, but my own hands were too cold. I had gloves, too, and Scout's hands were bare. "You'll have to go without looking prim and proper," I said flatly. He shrugged, and then broke off coughing. "Warm up your fingers, or you'll get frostbite."

"Should I breathe on 'em?"

"Is your breath still warm enough?"

He blew on his palms experimentally, but sat back, irritated. "Nope. Too fucking cold." He doubled over, coughing, but recovered as quickly as he began.

Engineer called us over, to where Pyro had once again lit a small bonfire. We gathered appreciatively around it. Scout hesitated to follow me, but once I was almost at the fire he hurriedly stood and scrambled over.

"If you all stop shivering while we're marching, tell me or pyro, and get pyro to warm you up."

"If we _stop_ shivering?" Spy asked incredulously. "I should think that's a good thing."

"It means you're dying, France man," Engineer retorted, and that shut the Spy up. "Now, we're gonna camp here till' the sun comes up. See that cave Scout was lookin' into? Everybody get anything that's dead and will burn and we'll make ourselves a fire in there. Got it? You've got five minutes, find something to burn."

We fan out again, but something makes us all hesitate as we set to work searching. From within the inky darkness, from somewhere far, yet not so far, we hear the hunting howl of wolves.


	12. Chapter 12: Camaraderie

"I didn't think it was possible, but I think it's getting colder," I whispered to Engineer.

Engineer reached up to tear a piece of dead bark loose from a crack in the mountain. He flexed it, and his goggles gleamed dimly with the flashlight's light. "It probably is. Matter of fact, I think it's good Scout put down his foot. Temperature's going to drop some more. We'll have to wait it out." Even the cloud of warm breath that appeared when speaking had vanished. We were all thoroughly chilled from within and without.

"Should we get back to the others?" I asked, wincing as my voice cracked and I felt something tear in the back of my mouth. "I need some water, too."

"Yeah, we best go back. I don't want to leave Sebastian alone too long-especially not with Silas." Engineer tucked the wood under his arm and began picking his way across the rocks. I followed with much more care, not eager to fall and impale myself on some of the strange, sharper ones.

A lone wolf howl interrupted me again. "Do wolves actually live in these mountains?" I asked as softly as I could.

"Yeah. There aren't too many of 'em." He stubbed his toe on a jagged stone and swore. "Anyhow, they'll leave us alone if we leave them alone."

"What do they eat? Rocks?" I demanded, looking around at the bare slopes and smooth grey surfaces of the mountains.

"There are areas that ain't just dead plants and rocks. Some of the valleys and mountainsides have forests. Stuff like goats and moose live there." He coughed, doubling over for a moment. I stepped forward to help him, but he pushed me away. "I'm fine. Anyway, it's quite a sight. I doubt we'll get to see any of it, we're headed farther up."

"The Reds are even higher up?" I said despairingly.

"That's right. Not that much higher, but we're off-course. That gorge we've got to cross-I don't like the looks of it. No name for it on maps, just a number. We reach the other end, there's a bit of a climb that takes us on an access trail to the Red compound." He stopped for a moment, and he looked off into the distance, muscles slack. "We have to survive the trip first."

Back at our little encampment, the nine of us huddled around the flames. Looking into the fire, I saw a brief flash of Sniper's blank, unbelieving expression, his face in that final, fatal moment. Blinking, I turned away and surveyed our group. We were all ragged and exhausted, and this was only the first few hours. Frost caked our boots. I felt incredibly small, myself and these mercenaries, as I gazed up at the vast mountains, reaching up into the sky with indestructible will and strength. We were not even close to the same, us frail and sleepy humans. The sleepiness is what startled me out of my reverie. Turning, I looked about the group. Heavy sat upright with his eyes closed. I couldn't tell if he was awake or not. Demoman was draped over a dead log, snoring gently. Silas crouched by his brother, Sebastian, who lay motionless in the snow. Engineer' baleful eye flicked over to the two of them every couple of minutes.

I became aware then of two uncomfortable weights pressed against either side of me. Scout on my left, and Soldier on my right. Both had given in to exhaustion and begun to doze, much to my discomfort. I was unwilling to shove them off, but at the same time…

Engineer solved that for me by clearing his throat and saying as clearly as he could, "All of you, wake up for a minute."

Soldier snapped awake, but Scout remained asleep and even began to drool. The saliva quickly coagulated and even began to freeze in the chill. I gave him a friendly (Alright, it was a little strong) pinch on the cheek to get his attention, and he woke up soon enough.

"Let's all get into that there cave," Engineer instructed. "Come on now, step lively. It's better than nothing, so move your sorry asses." He was met with reluctant groans and unsteady wavering. "Get in there or you'll _freeze to death when ya'll fall asleep and the fire goes out!_"

Galvanized into action, we all staggered to our feet and plodded to the dark cave. Pyro lit a lighter, the glow of which reflected in his mask's wide lenses. Not for the first time I wondered about the face behind that dark, fireproof exterior.

The cave was small, which in fact would be a good thing. We huddled up against the far edge, while the Spy got a light from Pyro. The fire was moved (It was rather difficult. There was lots of complaining and singed hands.) and set in front of the cave. With some argument we fleshed out a rotation, wherein one of us was awake for an hour to maintain the fire while the others rested. Much to my irritation, I wound up first. Such is the cruelty of life.

As I bundled myself up with a spare jacket by the cave entrance, I gazed out into the snow and tried to see something. Beyond though fire's halo of light, however, I could make out nothing. There was just an inky darkness that promised to swallow me whole should I dare to venture out.

A movement back in the cave distracted me. Silas was awake, toying with something that gleamed and flickered in the firelight. Acting a lot braver than I felt, I stood and demanded, "What's that you're holding?" To my annoyance, my voice shook ever so slightly as I said this.

Silas did not respond for a while, continuously flicking the object between his fingers, before at last he held it up to me to see. It was a long, narrow knife, with a jeweled hilt and intricate, black handle. I struggled to recall the name-a stiletto! That's right, a stiletto. Silas's face twisted into an unpleasant leer. "Care to help me test it's tip?"

I became suddenly aware of my own incompetence when faced with these hardened mercenaries. I remembered then that I had a revolver tucked away in my shirt. When had I taken that? I didn't remember, but my hand creeped to it now. Silas sat a little taller, expression steely and accusing.

"Stop that, _now."_ A strong voice said, full of authority. Engineer was sitting bolt upright, rigid and grim-faced. "Silas, give me the knife."

With an irritated snort, Silas flung the blade at Engineer, who caught it deftly. I waited expectantly for the two of them to lie down again. Neither of them did, and when I at last switched out with Pyro, I turned back to look at them before lowering my head. The two were still glaring at each other, eyes blazing with unspoken contempt as I lay myself down to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13: Good Morning

_AN: Silas and Sebastian are twin brothers, will elaborate more on that later. Sorry._

Morning would have brought the fresh new promise of a glorious day and chance to survive. If only I could see the morning.

Outside, the world was basked in a strange, grey light, though hardly a thing was visible. The sun was up, but the clouds stubbornly refused to move. It had stopped snowing, at least. Small comfort though it was, it made the prospect of marching not half bad.

I sat up, wincing as my back let out a couple of unhealthy-sounding pops and cracks. That can't be good.

"Hey, pass me the muffins…" a slurred voice droned beside me. I turned to stare down at Demoman. whose eyes were open and staring up at me.

"Muffins? I don't-"

With his eyes open, Demoman began to snore, continuing his blissful sleep. I was tempted to hit him with something.

Movement by the cave entrance disturbed me, and I saw Heavy marching in. He was carrying some deadwood, a bit damp with melted ice. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me. "You wake early."

"What time is it?" I asked groggily, struggling to my feet. As reluctant as I was to leave the pile of people, the cave floor didn't make for great rest. "How long have we been here?"

"Is now eight in the morning," Heavy said, dumping the wood in a corner. "We sleep at about one."

I searched the cave, finding Soldier and Pyro gone. I mentioned that to Heavy, who was skinning something with a glittering tool. I started; It was the stiletto Silas had been toying with last night. I swung around and spotted the unpleasant German curled up at very back of the cave, eyes half open and breathing gently. Sebastian was nowhere to be found.

I sidled up to Heavy, curious. "Did you know about...those two? Silas and Sebastian? The Medics?"

"I did not know two doctors. I only know doctor sometimes act funny," Heavy said, arms crossed and jaw set. "We must ask doctor soon."

**"INCOMING!"**

Both our heads snapped up to look up on the opposite slope. The clouds conveniently parted, revealing something dark tumbling rapidly downhill towards us. Beside me, Heavy cursed in a language unknown to me.

The noises began when they were halfway down the slope. The sound of cracking and crumbling echoed through the confined mountain paths. I squinted, trying to see-

"They are on log," Heavy declared. He was right.

Sliding down the mountainside was Pyro and Soldier, clinging by their hands to what seemed to be a massive log. Soldier's manic screams (Laughter?) could be heard trailing after him as he streaked down the icy stone. As he bumped his way down, he called out to us.

_"Look out, boys! I'VE BROUGHT BREAKFAST!"_

_ "Mmmrphmmmph!"_

_ "SILENCE! That is _INSUBORDINATION!_"_

_ "Mmmmphhhh!"_

_ "I said-"_

At that point, Heavy and I dived sideways as the dark, dead tree slammed into the cave entrance. Fortunately, it spun sideways, and so did not brutally crush the sleepers within. The wood groaned and splintered as the dead bark gave way beneath the pressure of impact. There were no leaves, but there were two bedraggled figures attached to the side like suckerfish.

I picked myself up, brushing off the crystals that clung to my coat and coughed out some pieces of dirt and...dead tree. "What...What did you two do?" I demanded, hacking up some more unidentifiable objects.

Soldier stood and saluted smartly, then tried to click his heels together, which only resulted in him collapsing over the log again.

Pyro twitched feebly.

"Oh, vhat did you idiots do now?" I sour voice hissed from the cave. Silas peered out over the edge of the tree trunk, blinking like an owl. "Vhat zhe hell is zhis?"

"I suspect it is the product of human ingenuity," an equally sour voice said from behind him. The Spy pushed his way past and began clambering over the trunk. Once over, he fished around in Pyro's pocket, drawing out a lighter and tugged out a cigarette. I couldn't blame him. Cigarettes are the answer to _everything._

"Come, you help me push," Heavy said. He cracked his knuckles and hefted Pyro aside. Pyro tumbled limply into the snow like a ragdoll.

"Is he alright?" I asked, taking up position beside Heavy.

"He is just tired, I am sure," Heavy said simply. With that, he began to heave, and to my surprise, a day's worth of exhausting marching in the cold had not degraded his strength at all. The tree trunk began to move. I pushed as well, but had the faint feeling I wasn't contributing as much as I'd like.

After about ten minutes of grunting and shoving, the tree had shifted about a meter left.

I looked about, searching for Soldier, but the man had vanished. Somehow, that worried me.

"Where's Soldier?" I asked wearily.

Silas scowled. "How like him. We need to get going soon." He shoved his hands under his armpits and spat out some unkind words. "If it gets any colder my fingers will fall off."

Pyro sat up suddenly, and I looked at him. He seemed none the worse for the wear, but stood shakily. After a moment's hesitation, I lent him an arm to lean on. He was surprisingly light. I once again wondered what was behind that mask.

"Good morning all!" a cheery voice said.

All eyes snapped to Sebastian, who strode up, seeming much healthier. At the very least, you could almost forget his chest was covered in surgical scars and slices. The mental image made me shiver. I tried not to meet the man's eyes when I looked at him.

"I bring good news, depending on what you consider good news," Sebastian said. His eyes were bright, oddly in contrast to the feeble figure he'd presented last night. "The weather is-"

"What happens with you and Silas, doctor?" Heavy interrupted.

All voices ceased. I looked nervously at Heavy. I hadn't expected him to be so abrupt and upfront about it!

Sebastian was still smiling.

All faces, except Demoman and Soldier, were turned to him. (The former was asleep, and possibly drunk. The latter was missing, hopefully dead.) Silas's face was stuck in a strange hybrid of sneer and smirk.

Engineer spoke up at last. "You all need to mind your own-"

"It's quite alright, Engineer. No point in pretending any longer. Do remind me if I've left anything out at the end," Sebastian said. He crossed his arms, and looked up, gathering his thoughts. "I'd best come clean anyway, we've got a long walk ahead of us. Best to not let things like this boil in our heads."

We all crowded closer, except Silas, who sat by the dying fire, feeding it twigs and now expressionless. It was impossible to read his face. I noticed then that some small things I'd overlooked before made sense now. Sebastian had virtually no accent. His eyes were not blue; the left was brown, the right a strange, cloudy grey. I wondered if that eye was blind.

"I was offered position as Field Medic by Builder's League United some time ago. Silas did not receive an offer. Possibly this was because Silas already had a good job. He was head surgeon at a hospital in Nuremberg."

"Numb burger?" Scout's eyes were wide and his mouth gaped, giving him a rather confused look.

"City in Germany," Silas said curtly. He was glaring at Sebastian. A vein pulsed in his temple as Sebastian continued.

"I accepted the position. However, Silas felt this job better suited him. He is right, I suppose. At any rate, I began to exercise more regularly to make my physique closer to my brother's. I needed to be in shape for this job, and in shape I was not. Curious that my brother was not sent this invitation…" He trailed off thoughtfully.

"Clearly a mistake," Silas said brusquely. Nobody said anything. I studied Silas. What made him different? Clearly his attitude and personality were miles apart from Sebastian's, but the two must've been interchangeably playing their part of the "Medic" while I was there. I could see now some situations back at the base that might've been different…

"After I sent back my letter of acceptance, my parents demanded I allow Silas to take my place. After some deliberation, it was decided Silas and I would both go, if anything to get us ut of our parents' hair." He smiled bitterly, and seemed about to continue, before drawing back and falling silent.

"That's it?" Engineer demanded. His goggles were pushed up, the first time I had seen them that way. His eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms. "You just shared your job?" I waited for him to mention that crisscross of scars and stitches across Sebastian's torso, but to my surprise, he said nothing of them.

Silas stood abruptly. "There's nothing more to say. Ve're vasting time here. If ve are quick, ve can cross zhe entire length of zhe valley vizhin a couple of days, if not less."

As if a spell had been broken, we all stirred to life and chatter broke out. Parched throats requested water, and Pyro lit another fire.

A sudden explosion of hoarse shouting distracted me. Something slammed into the back of my head, and I stumbled forward, stars flashing in front of my eyes.

"I'LL BREAK YOU, I SWEAR I WILL!"

A foot pounded into my side, and knocked the breath out of me. Gasping, I rolled onto my back to see Soldier and Demoman wrestling like madmen-which was a pretty good way to describe them at any rate.

A fist collided with Demoman's nose, and I winced, hearing the crunch of breaking cartilage. Furious, Demo swung his knee up between Soldier's legs, with a less audible but undoubtedly equally painful reaction.

"You _crossdressing maggot!"_

"I'll beat you so hard your _grandchildren _will cry!"

"Ha! You fool! Grandchildren aren't real!"

A weighted boot smashed into a knee with enough force to elicit a crack and a scream. Somebody hauled me up by my collar. Heavy dusted me off, and marched towards the brawling duo. The others seemed tense, but said nothing. Silas observed it all with an amused air. Looking at him gave me the desire to punch his face.

Heavy lifted both men up by their collars as well, taking in the blood running down Demoman's face and the limpness of Soldier's left leg. With no medical equipment on hand, that was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Good man, Heavy," Engineer said. He was crouched at the cave's mouth, working on something obscured to me. "Bring the two idiots over here, will ya'?"

I heard a click, whirr, and then the hiss of steam. Curious, I followed Heavy over, and saw a metallic, box-like object rising out of a steel base. "What on Earth?"

"Bet you didn't notice I was carrying around a toolbox," Engineer said mildly. He adjusted a grey knob, and the screen lit up in response. After a few seconds, the machine began emitting an undulating pattern of garish blue light. Like twin snakes of light, beams latched onto Soldier and Demoman. Both men dangled like dolls from Heavy's grasp, struggling and swearing, but relaxed when the beam touched them. A few smaller trails led to me and Engineer. I instantly felt calmer, and warmer as well.

"Ah! I didn't think you'd managed to save that. Why didn't you mention it sooner?" Sebastian asked, squatting down by the dispenser and letting its healing rays wash over him. He let out a happy sigh. "Much better."

The others gathered around the magical machine, letting it revitalize them. "Excuse my, uh, ignorance, but what is this? Is it like the medigun?"

"It's called a dispenser," Spy snapped, like I should have known already. "I seem to recall it provides ammunition as well."

"Only whatever's already in it," Engineer warned. "If you've got pistols or something, save your bullets. This thing can only do so much. Let's sit around a bit, let it get ya'll together, and then we'll get going."

"You've been carrying this thing all the way?" I asked admiringly. "Must be heavy."

"I will help carry," Heavy said.

Engineer smiled. "I'm sure you will."

I let my aching joints loosen under the dispenser's care, and looked surreptitiously Sebastian He was sitting cross-legged, glasses nowhere to be seen, and gazing up at the now much clearer sky. His eyes glowed, reflecting light like glass. He hummed a soft tune I could not quite make out, rocking back and forth. I noticed Scout looking at him with a strange expression as well.

Suddenly, he looked down again, and our eyes met. I instinctively wanted to look away, but managed to steel myself, not wanting to seem nervous. I glared at him until he threw back his head and laughed, loud and clear. The sound, almost demented in its nature, bounced around the mountains, and I would've bet I could hear it miles away. The others, startled, stared at him dubiously until he came to stop, still smiling and gazing up at the mountaintops.

None of the others could peel their eyes away from him for the next few minutes, but he seemed not to care, apparently supremely relaxed compared to the rest of us.

Behind me, I heard Silas grumbling in German.


	14. Chapter 14: It Begins Again

The snow crunched underneath my feet, loud and irritating. Even after about an hour of this noise, I'd not gotten over how sharp and piercing it was in comparison to the dead silent mountains. I looked nervously up at the tall, grey monoliths looming over us from both sides. I felt small, so incredibly small, before their vastness.

The first half an hour of our march had been struggling to climb down into the valley. After we'd gathered everyone together (Soldier was nowhere to be found. After getting healed up, he'd marched off, grumbling something about worms.) we began the climb down. It was no easy task; the stone walls were almost devoid of handholds. The rock face was completely smooth near the bottom, so we had to drop a good four or five meters at the end. My tortured knees popped and screamed as I did so.

Nobody spoke, because that would've only worsened the incredible dryness in our throats. From our vantage point at the valley's lip, it hadn't seemed all that big, but now it was plain to see the valley might take days to cross. I couldn't even to begin guessing at its length.

Engineer's voice split the silence like a thunderclap,

"Let's rest for a bit." Engineer was straight-backed and clear-eyed, unlike all except Sebastian, who was similarly composed.

I looked around, bleary-eyed. The others looked how I felt, hunched and shuffling. Even Heavy walked with a faint drag to his feet. A long trail of grooves marked where our limp feet had taken us.

"We've only been marching...marching f-for an hour," Silas pointed out. "If ve stop every hour ve'll take at least t-twice the time to cross." Even as he said this, though, he let out an explosive sneeze followed by a grunt of pain. I sympathized. Cold as it was, sneezing was painful, and likely to get some blood flowing. A dark fluid began to ooze from Silas's mouth. His mouth must have torn.

Engineer eyed the blood snaking its way down Silas's chin, before shaking his head. "We're gonna rest." Nobody said anything after that.

With a grunt, Heavy dumped the heavy (Heh.) dispenser down into the snow. The metal parts squeaked and grunted as they slowly came to life. We all crowded around, waiting eagerly for it to give us a few minute's respite.

As I let the dull, soothing warmth wash over me, heavy footsteps drew my attention. Engineer marched up to Sebastian, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him aside. Alarmed, I stood, ready to intervene, but stopped at a glare from Engineer. I suppose I trusted the man, at least more so than the rest of these guys, so I sat back down, watching warily.

I could not hear their hushed words, but Engineer was obviously angry and tense, while Sebastian seemed supremely relaxed. The mild expression on his face was unnerving, especially after all that had happened. After a minute, Engineer turned to me, and I started when he called my name,

"Gerard! Come here a sec." I hesitated, unwilling to leave the comfortable dispenser, but Engineer's expression beget no argument. With a groan of pain, I dragged myself upright and trailed over to the two men.

Lowering his voice, Engineer muttered to me, "You have a revolver." It wasn't a question.

I arched my eyebrows. "How did you know?"

Ignoring my question, he went on, "I want you to keep an eye on Silas for me. I'll be gone for the rest of the day, and-no, listen," he said, cutting of my cry of protest. "I'll be moving ahead for a bit, and talking to old Seb here about some things he needs to come clean about. We need a little time to talk alone. Sebastian will be with me, but the two folks I really don't trust to leave are Silas and Spy."

"What about Soldier? And why me?"

"Soldier's nuts, but he won't be a danger. As for why you," he said, smiling. "I don't think you're a bad guy. Prove me right."

Giving in, I nodded, and looked him squarely in the eyes. "You'll come back safe?"

"Aw, shucks. You're getting sappy. Now, I've got enough things in my bag with me to last us the day, and we can move a lot faster. We'll wait for you ahead. You should still be able to see us until we cross that rise over there." He pointed at a high, hill-like formation in the distance. "I've got to sort some things out here."

Mystified, I looked at Sebastian, who was now singing softly to himself.

_...and when we part, I will remember._

_ There are days when it gets so cold_

_ But when we part, I will remember…_

_ All those whispers I was told._

_ If I must, I will wait forever..._

_ For that call to wake me again._

_ 'Cause how you laughed I will remember_

_ How you smiled I won't forget._

"Snap out of it, you need to get back to the others. Keep your revolver on your belt, by the way. There's a loop; It should fit," Engineer said. "Last spy used it." He waved me off, giving Medic a gentle shove, and the two sprinted off into the snow, surprisingly fast. I wondered where they got that strength, especially after marching all day. As they ran, Sebastian's voice lifted just enough to be heard faintly as he went.

_ Oh, the skies are wide and the moon is bright!_

_ The sun is fading and the night's all mine!_

_ And so when we part I will remember_

_ The evil wind that stole you from me._

At the end, he cried out, perhaps a name, but the wind picked up and snatched the words away from me, blowing them off into the sky to be forgotten. Then, he was gone, along with Engineer, and already within a minute almost a smudge in the distance.

Disconcerted and dispirited, I meandered back to the others, who had packed up and watched the two men with sour expressions.

"What did Engineer say to you, small man?" Heavy asked when I fell into step beside him.

"Nothing," I grunted. "Just said to keep an eye on Spy and Silas." I rubbed my hands together, but it felt like I was grinding two plastic sheets against one another; I felt nothing.

Heavy nodded. "Spy is likely to cause problem. He is arrogant, but still smart. Silas is smart as well, but he is...how do you say, malicious." He let out an exhausted breath, and shifted the dispenser to his other arm. "We must be careful. Longer we are out, more likely we die, and not from cold, I think."

I glanced up at the surprising insight from the burly man. I'd come to associate his guttural voice and limited English with a dim mind. I'd best not make that mistake again.

Another dreary two hours passed, during which we came to the base of the snowy rise. The slope was faint and would've been easy to climb if I'd been well-rested, but as it was I looked up at the ascent with foreboding. "I'd rather not do this," I muttered.

"Come, we rest now," Heavy said. He set down the dispenser with surprising gentleness, and motioned for us to gather round. We eagerly absorbed the healing rays while Heavy and I sized up the miniature hill before us.

"We are so tired now, if we sleep, we tumble all the way down," Heavy said.

"Surely the snow will grip our feet? At least, we should have enough strength, it's not a steep climb."

"No," Heavy said. "You do not realize-snow is wet. Has not snowed all day, and now sun has begun to melt the snow on hill. It is thin, and underneath very little dirt, mostly gravel and smooth stone." He shuddered, a strange motion on the giant of a man. "We slip, we break necks, I think."

A few minutes passed, in which Heavy and I stood side by side in contemplation of the climb. I could see the faint trail where Engineer and Sebastian had run clear over. I still marveled at that; How could they have run so fast, so easily? Heavy followed my eyes, and looked at the trail critically.

"They are strange men, those two," He said simply.

I nodded agreement.

* * *

"Ah, _shit!"_

Startled, I stumbled from my slow, painful standing, and looked at the source of the shout. Scout had tumbled into the snow, clutching his ankle.

Pyro grabbed Scout's foot and began looking over it, but then Heavy pushed him aside and lifted Scout up by his skinny leg, and studied the offending limb carefully.

The skin on the ankle was a little red and chafed, but that was just like the rest of us.

"You let muscles seize up. You must move now, slowly." Heavy set Scout down, but the boy collapsed on his weakened left leg. Cursing and swearing, Scout latched a hand onto Heavy's arm and dragged himself upright. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Unfortunately, I got stuck supporting him.

"Stop leaning so much!"

"I'm not. You're not walking straight."

"That's because you're leaning!" I shoved Scout a little.

"Hey-I'm crippled here!"

"You don't need that much help!"

"You're just weak, idiot!"

"You're too heavy!"

* * *

_AN: Felt like last chapter was a bit incomplete.  
_


	15. Chapter 15: Plot

"Come on, Darren! You run like an old man!"

Lithe feet flitted over the snow, seeming to leave almost no imprint. A soft voice, fey and mysterious sang words in a lilting tone.

Except Darren was cold and grumpy.

To be fair, Darren was almost 44 years old, and while by no means elderly, was not as spry as the 29-year old maniac dancing away before him.

"Glad you're in a good mood," he snapped. He was remarkably healthy for his age, a trait that came with being a mercenary and adhering to a strict exercise regime.

He was a great sprinter, but could not keep up the breakneck pace that Sebastian set for more than ten minutes. His breath came in short gasps, but as a testament to a physical fitness, he continued to run without slowing. "How far away do you want to be? Can't we talk here?"

Sebastian ground to a halt, sending a flurry of snow up into the air around him. Darren stopped beside him, breathing heavily. His throat was cracked and bleeding from the freezing air flowing through it. He quickly popped the tap of a beer can and slaked his thirst. He'd brought a couple of cans from the base, but had wanted to save it for emergencies.

_Surely chasing a madman counts as an emergency, _he thought. Careful to drink only a couple of mouthfuls, he lowered the can and glared at the man standing before him.

Sebastian's own breathing was long and easy. He smiled a demented smile, and his mismatched eyes were disturbingly bright. His hands, with their spidery fingers, were knotting themselves with one another. He was never still, always restless. Even standing his feet tapped rhythms into the snow, and his legs drew circles around him. A faint stubble coated his chin. Darren was jealous. Sebastian did not need to shave daily; traces of growth wouldn't show for a few days on the man.

"Well, Darren. You have kept quiet, and for that I am grateful," Sebastian said, lips stretched in a wide grin.

Darren remembered when Sebastian had first showed up.

* * *

_ The day the new Medic was supposed to come, nobody had showed. Darren had planned to be the first to welcome the new doctor, but the day wore on, and there was no sign. That night, he rattled off a quick message to HQ about the Medic's absence, and got no intelligible response._

_ At about eleven, he sat in his workshop sipping his honey cider. His wife was unimpressed with his decision to mix honey into everything he drank. Frankly, he liked his bee-juice and didn't give a damn what anyone else thought._

_ A loud thud jolted him from his seat, and he slopped cider over himself. "What in the name of-"_

_ Irritated, strained voices came to him from the hallway. Thinking one of the mercenaries had stayed up late with a little too much to drink, Darren grabbed his wrench and hurried out, ready to give someone a good hiding._

_ Two men staggered through the halls and into the infirmary, dragging suitcases behind them. One man's shirt was off and his chest coated in blood. It dripped a steady trail from the entry hall all the way to the medical ward._

_ Alarmed, Engineer ran into the infirmary. "Hey-who're you two?"_

_ He found a gun pressed to his forehead._

_ Acting on training born of years of dealing with danger, Darren dropped low while swinging his arm up violently. He felt it collide with something knobby, probably an elbow, and heard the satisfying crack of bone. He rolled, wishing desperately he'd brought his pistol or shotgun._

_ "Was hast-AH!" In the dark of the room, someone tripped, tumbled, and crashed. Engineer reached blindly out into the dark and grabbed something-an ankle. With a curse, his attacked fell over him._

_ Engineer ran for the doors, where the tinted windows let in the faintest bit of light. His fingers scrambled along the walls, and found the light switch. He spun around as the lights flickered to life._

_ Two men lay before him. One of them, the fiercer and nastier looking of the two, thought Darren, was draping his coat over the other. Both were dressed in similar attire, and almost identical. The one with a scowl on his face cradled a broken arm._

_ "You-"_

_ "I am zhe new Medic. And you just broke my arm," the man snapped, voice heavily accented._

_ "Medigun's on the desk. Sorry, but you had a gun to my head, pal."_

_ Muttering and swearing, the man crawled to the desk and dragged the medigun off of it. He switched it on, and his arm was suffused with a blue glow._

_ "You twins?" Darren asked, staring at the unconscious man. "And is he alright?"_

_ "Unfortunately, ve are indeed tvins. Do not vorry, he has no open vounds. He zhrew up zhat blood."_

_ "What? Then hurry up and help him!"_

_ "It is probably just an ulcer."_

_ "Do it _NOW_ damn it!"_

_ "Alright, alright!"_

_ Over the next few weeks, Darren kept the secret at the request of the older twin, Silas. The two worked interchangeably, one disappearing into the basement while the other worked. Darren was not one to pry into personal details, and so said nothing of it. _After all,_ he reasoned. _Maybe they're on hard times and just had to work together on this. _The only ones who had reasons to suspect were Scout and Heavy. Scout had too much spare time and spent most of it in the infirmary. Heavy typically worked with Medic on the battlefield. Still, if any knew, they said nothing._

_ Then, the scars._

_ That night in the firelight Darren had beheld a twisted, broken mannequin, barely a sad parody of a human. He resolved then and there to find out what had happened._

* * *

"Tell me." He could think of nothing else to say, but he did not need to.

Sebastian stared at him for a moment, then nodded in a resigned fashion.

"I'm sure you've guessed Silas and I do not share a typical brotherly relationship."

Darren crossed his arms impatiently. "Unless you're buggering each other, I don't care about him. Tell me about the scars."

Not to be put off, Sebastian went on, "My brother and I have an understanding. I let him do as he pleases, and he bothers me as little as he possibly can." He heaved a sigh, and for the first time in over half an hour, stopped moving. He stood motionless, staring at and past Darren. "I shared an apartment with someone far too successful and kind for me to deserve knowing. Not to mention, I lived in America. My family received the letter from BLU, but needed some of my documentation to proceed. If they didn't need my help applying, they would've just sent Silas in my place. There was even a personality questionnaire."

"You're not answering my question."

"Forgive me. I'm about to." He pulled aside the flaps of his coat, and pulled up his shirt. The railroad-lines of stitches and scars ran all around, and his torso looked like a patchwork quilt. One or two patches of skin were suspiciously darker than the rest, as though they'd been grafted on. The angry red scar around Sebastian's midriff had faded to a dull purple. The dispenser must've worked its magic. It no longer looked infected.

Darren stared for a long while, a lot longer than he probably should have. At last, he cleared his throat, and said awkwardly, "Silas did this?"

Sebastian nodded slowly. His smile was gone, and his eyes were cold. "Silas is an excellent scientist. He asks many questions, and acts on them. Why is this so? Find a test subject and find out."

"But…" Darren murmured softly, still unable to wrench his eyes from Darren's torso. "You're the test subject."

"My life is unimportant, but Silas is hardly safe company. I have to warn you; He will prove most dangerous as time progresses." He drew in a shuddering breath. "My brother's laboratory was not destroyed in the fire. Once we have reached the reds or some other form of help, he will continue his work."

That last bit startled Darren. "A laboratory? What are you going on about?"

"Silas set up his own lab in an older section of the basement level. The things he has been doing…" Sebastian trailed off.

"To you?" Darren asked softly.

Darren snorted derisively. "I am not concerned for myself, mein freund. However, Silas is dangerous."

"We're all dangerous."

"You know what I mean," Sebastian said tersely. He toyed with his sleeves for a minute. "I am afraid of what he will do even if the REDs accept us."

A particularly cold chill blew over the two, and Darren shivered uncomfortably. His curiosity continued to mount, however. "I've never seen this lab of his. Also, he doesn't seem too bad, all things considered. He's no worse than the last Medic. Show me those scars again, real quick?"

Hesitantly, Sebastian lifted his shirt again. Darren reached a hand out hesitantly, then paused. "May I?" At a nod from the german, he proceeded.

The scars were thin and slightly ridge with dull pink flesh. Compared the the pale patches around them, they stood out like a beacon. Blistering red marks spiderwebbed across their edges, where the skin was dry and cracked. The stitches were well-done, to say the least. They were narrow and difficult to see, and some were clearly very old. The scar running across Sebastian's gut was oozing a clear fluid.

"Why can't the dispenser or medigun remove these?" Darren wondered aloud. His fingers carefully traced the stitches. "Some of the older ones, I understand, since it can't get rid of scars, but why didn't your brother just heal it all together with the medigun so it wouldn't leave marks?" He drew back, feeling a little nauseous.

Sebastian smirked, and shook his head. "Just what sort of person do you think my brother is?" He spread his arms wide in a vague gesture. Then, a curious expression stole over his face. "Do you remember who attacked you in the generator room?"

Darren could not suppress a grimace. His hand crept toward his stomach, and traced the invisible outline of his previous wound. He remembered little of what had transpired in the generator room, save that someone or something had come upon him from behind. That he remembered. The coldness of the metal pressed against his gut, and then? Then it was the searing, burning pain that wiped away all other thoughts.

A dull red haze had followed, in which there had been rumbling. He recalled...someone cursing? He couldn't hear. Something collapsed in front of him, with the grind of metal. Pain...no-_agony _poured from his abdomen. Mercifully, unconsciousness took him then, and he drifted into dreamlessness.

"Darren!"

Darren's head snapped up, and he gasped in a breath of cold air, hardly aware that he'd been holding his breath. A strange ache creeped up from his stomach region, and he clawed at it without noticing.

Sebastian reached out a hand and plucked Darren's away from his gut. "I'm sorry for bringing that up, but you should know-it was my brother who attacked you."

"Sebastian, you'd best not be lying. That's a pretty serious accusation."

Sebastian shook his head, and turned to gaze back at the snowy expanse behind them. "My brother's ambitions exceeded that of which my parents know and expect. They do not know it yet, but the son they so adored and coddled is a genius. A true genius." Sebastian's eyes flickered. "And when you give a genius the tools he needs…" His fingers toyed with the hem of his coat.

"What has he been _doing_ down there?" Darren demanded, dreading the answer.

"Everything," Sebastian breathed. eyes glittering.

Darren's first reaction was to scoff. Then he began to laugh. Before he knew it he was doubled over, choking and gasping with a bizarre amusement he couldn't explain. Maybe the exhaustion and lightheadedness had gotten to him, or perhaps that one word was amusing to his subconscious. At last, when his chest began to ache, he subsided, still giggling madly for a time.

Sebastian remained expressionless, calmly waiting for Darren to calm down. "My brother is unpredictable, Darren. Knowing this, would you not take precautions?"

Darren heaved a sigh of exhaustion. He sought revival in another gulp of beer, grimacing now at the strongness. He wished he had some honey on hand. "So-what's your brother done to _you_, specifically?"

"Silas was delighted with how much research material was available to him. Not only that, he had australian technology on hand." He idly scratched at one of his scars. "One of the more recent tests was to grow some kind of maggot inside my flesh."

Revulsion stole over Darren. "Maggots? There are _maggots_ inside you?"

"To be more precise, they were genetically modified. About six inches long, an inch wide at their widest point. They died fairly quickly, which Silas blames on my thin blood." He shivered then, the first time Darren had seen him shiver since they entered this forsaken iceland. "And once, he attempted to keep me alive without a heart, using some sort of compression tube." Sebastian's eyes glazed over, lost in thought and alarmingly unfocused. "That one was quite painful."

Darren looked back at the snow hill, expecting to see the others crossing it at any moment. "What do we do about him? And how come you let him do those damned things to you?"

Sebastian smiled a strange smile, and said, "It seems only appropriate. I am unimportant, don't you think? The things he learns could be far more important than my life."

"Bullshit!" Darren snarled. He took a step forward and jabbed Sebastian in the chest as forcefully as he dared. "You're a man! Act like one! I don't care what-" He stopped when he saw Sebastian's expression.

Sebastian was not looking at him. Technically, his eyes were pointed at him, but they saw _through_ him, past the endless layers of flesh, bone, and earth. He was smiling again, but Darren realized just then that he never smiled out of happiness.

Darren had never liked books where the author claimed you could see emotions in eyes.  
That was silly. Eyes stayed the same color, the same shade, no matter the thoughts of the other. Now, though, something in that ghastly, exhausted face screamed sadness, despite the jackal's grin on the lips.

Darren edged away, and out of Sebastian's view, nervous, but the man did not even seem to notice he'd left.

Darren sat down in the snow, and drained the last of his beer. He kept a close eye on Sebastian. Darren's closest childhood friend had committed suicide right in front of him.

He didn't like how he saw his friend's face in Sebastian's.

* * *

Darren sneezed, and Sebastian's head jerked up. He'd been standing in silent reverie for over ten minutes, and his exhaustion was catching up to him.

"Rest, you need to rest," Sebastian said. He hurried over and cleared some of the snow. "I'll watch. You won't freeze, I promise you."

Reluctantly, Darren lay himself down. He wasn't sure if he trusted Sebastian now, but he knew he'd be too tired to help later if he didn't rest now. "Alright, but wake me the moment something happens, you hear?"

Sebastian nodded. Darren laid his head down, and dropped to sleep with surprising speed.

* * *

_The doorbell rang. Darren looked out the window, and to his delight and alarm, he saw his friend Byron. "I've got it, mom!" he yelled. "It's my friend!"_

_ "Is it, dear? Alright," his mother called back. Then, she said, "Is it Byron?"_

_ Darren hesitated and then called, "Yeah."_

_ Dashing down the stairs, Darren went as fast as his fifteen-year-old legs would carry him. He dreaded Byron's visit, but loved them as well._

_ There wasn't any dancing around the conversation. Whenever Byron visited, something had gone wrong at home. Byron's dad was, put nicely, an alcoholic. His mother had died in childbirth. There are many things that make bad chemistry in a family, and Byron's was full of it. Byron usually came over bleeding from a dozen different wounds, but he wasn't there for bandages. He was usually there to hide._

_ Darren mother and father had offered to adopt Byron many times. More than once they'd offered to talk to Byron's father, but all of them knew it would do little good. It was nice, Darren thought, to have good parents like his._

_ Darren threw open the door and quickly ushered in the gap-toothed Byron. Fair-haired and fair-skinned, Byron was as usual, thin as a scarecrow. Darren grabbed him by the arm and hauled him in._

_ "You're here! Did anything…?"_

_ Darren's mother hurried up with a first aid kit, as she always did when Byron visited. Today, however, Byron seemed relatively unharmed. There were a few old bruises on his neck and a week-old scab running down his left cheek, but he was otherwise hale._

_ "Byron, dear," Darren's mom said carefully. "Are you alright?" Her hands tugged instinctively at the aid kit's catch. With a mother's intuition, she began scanning him for injuries. Darren imagined her eyes emitted x-rays. Very little got past her._

_ "Yes, thanks ma'am," Byron said, voice soft. "I just wanted to talk to Darren for a minute."_

_ "Oh, oh course! We're always glad to have you over. Will you stay for dinner?"_

_ "No ma'am."_

_ Darren's mother bobbed her head, and quickly tucked the kit away under her arm. "I'll leave you two to it, then. Oh, Darren? Your sister's coming back from university tomorrow. Becoming a police officer! A fine idea, but don't you think she's not the type?" She hurried off, muttering to herself about the million things she had yet to finish today. "I'll bring something up for you two to eat."_

_ "Don't trouble yourself," Byron said, as Darren lead him up the stairs._

_ Once inside the room, Darren shut the door and glared at Byron. "Well?" he demanded. "What's happened? Your dad do anything? Do we have to-"_

_ "Calm down! Geez," Byron said, laughing. He sat down heavily on Darren's bed. He seemed incredibly calm, which unnerved Darren even more. Byron was always tense, nervous and twitchy. Today, he looked like a weight had been lifted off of him. Relieved, somehow. Darren wasn't sure what to think. "I just want to give you this."_

_ Darren stared blankly at Byron as he tugged out a small, gold watch. "Where'd you get that?" he asked slowly. Then his face colored. "You didn't steal it, did you?"_

_ "No! You know me better than that!" Byron cried. He still seemed maddeningly cool and collected. "I want you to have it." He paused, and drew in a breath. "It was my mom's. There's also-" he pulled out a small, brown box. "This."_

_ Darren didn't quite understand what Byron was building up to, but he took both objects as they were handed to him._

_ The watch was simple, shiny, and looked recently polished. It was almost certainly genuine gold, and Darren wondered how Byron's mother had come to possess it, if she ever had. The small box was made of spruce wood, and when he opened it…_

_ Soft music filled the room, tinkling and gracing Darren's messy abode with light, soothing sounds._

_ Darren looked up, and cried out in alarm. Byron was holding a pistol. "What the hell are you doing?"_

_ Byron's eyes were damp with tears, another first. Darren had never seen Byron cry, even when he'd staggered over with a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder. Nothing made the boy cry.  
_

_ "Byron?"_

_ Byron smiled at him, a gleeful smile, fey and dangerous. "If there's anyone I can do this in front of, it's you. I'm glad you're my friend, Darren."_

_ "Of course I'm your friend, but what-_NO!_"  
_

_The barrel swung up to Byron's temple. Byron's finger tightened on the trigger. With a panicked yell Darren lunged forward and snatched at the gun. He missed, and sprawled out on his bed._

_ The next thing he felt was something warm and wet on his neck. Something heavy fell next to him.  
_

_ He sat up, and stared at Byron's motionless body._

_ Byron was gone._

_ He wasn't thinking._

_ He wasn't breathing._

_ He wasn't _there _anymore._

_ He just wasn't._

_ Gone._

_ Then, Darren screamed._

* * *

"Engineer! Darren! Wait-ah! Ow! Wake up, please!"

Darren lashed out, enraged. He was angry, and why not? Byron was dead! People die, yes, but Byron was gone! Nothing! His fist was caught by a cold hand, and someone hauled him into a sitting position. He kicked out, but someone was sitting on his legs. Still yelling, he forced open his eyes.

"Darren! Look at me! Yes, focus on my eyes!"

One brown, one curiously grey, like a cloud on a rainy day.

"We need to move. You hear me? _There is an avalanche coming!"_


	16. Chapter 16: Slides

Loud rumbling and cracking startled me out of my daze.

We'd spent the better part of the hour trudging up the hill, halting periodically to help anyone who stumbled. How Medic and Engineer had scaled this damn thing in five minutes was beyond me. I took another step, and swore as my foot sank through a deceptively large clump of snow and into a pothole of sorts. The impact jarred my ankles, and my entire leg shrieked with pain. I saw the Spy dart past me, surprisingly nimble and spry. As he passed, he sneered at me. I resisted the urge to groan at the pain and plodded on. Walking became a ritual, a mindless series of putting one foot in front of another. Thinking was difficult here; thinking was a reminder of pain, of cold, and of hunger.

Rather abruptly, snow and ice had begun falling on us. Not big chunks, mind, but flakes and pieces, pebbles and powder.

The rumbling that followed it alarmed us much more. Seven heads shot up from staring dully at the ground.

The tall, monolithic mountains on either side of the gorge were alive with activity. A flock of strange grey birds I did not recognize took off from the peak of one, squawking loud enough to be heard over the din. The snowy peaks were distorting, collapsing, and crumpling. Everything was a blur of motion and rolling. Standing stunned and awed, I gaped up at the huge slags of ice, dark white, almost blue, spinning off the side of the mountain and flying down at us like huge pillars of death.

A few dead trees (And inexplicably, live ones) tipped and were swallowed up by the gathering grey and white mass hurtling down into the gorge. On both sides of us, the massive avalanche roared up, and we were pinned in between!

How fitting, I thought, that fate had failed to kill me, so nature had come to finish me off.

* * *

"Move, move!" Heavy shouted. He waved his big arms at us, and began scrambling even further up the hill.

"Move where, you fat idiot? There's nowhere to go!" Scout yelled, voice cracking. His eyes were wild, as he watched his doom race down on either side. It was comical, almost, how slow the landslide occurred. It could've just been swift, and crushed us, but no-nature had to make it crawl, snag on ledges and slow to gather boulders, to make sure we understood pretty damn well we were screwed.

"Slide is behind us, as most!" Heavy cried. "We go ahead, cave systems ahead!"

"Caves? I will not hide in caves like a coward!" I started in surprise, glancing back at the group. When had Soldier returned to the group? The man was standing in the back, glaring at the snowy landslides behind us. He waved a shovel (Where the hell did he get that?) around in the air, and bellowed, "COME AND GET ME, _SNOWFLAKES!"_

I reached the top of the hill, panting and wheezing. I felt faint, and narrowly avoided falling facedown in the snow. Ahead, I saw two small figures in the distance. Sebastian and Engineer? They didn't seem to be moving, and unless I was very mistaken, one of them was lying down! "Are they insane?" I exclaimed. Heavy put a hand of my shoulder and pointed to a series of dark spots amongst the blinding white. "Are those caves?"

"Yes. Long time ago, water run through. Bore holes in rock. Avalanche behind us, will come slower once it reaches ground level." Again, I was startled with his seemingly scientific knowledge of the situation. "But we have maybe six, seven minutes only."

I looked aghast at the caves. "They've got to be at least a kilometer away! And even if we make it, we'll just be buried alive inside!"

Heavy grabbed my head suddenly, jerking it around to face him so suddenly I feared he'd snapped my neck. "_Run._"

I ran.

Behind my, Soldier had finally decided he could not stand up to the boulders flying down to greet him, and allowed Pyro to lead him away. He continued to yell obscenities at the mountain peaks as he went, however.

_Run. Feet sore. Run._

A chunk of stone the size of my foot flew past my head and buried itself in the ground. I hopped over it, shuddering at the thought of what would have happened if it'd struck me headon.

_Warm, wet, almost slimy. Feet bleeding. Cooling quickly, like ice stabbing toes._

"Look out, laddies!" Demoman shouted, and we halted as a massive tree trunk thundered past, spraying us with snow and coming to a halt several meters away.

_ Ahead, the two of them finally on their feet. My eyes are bleary and sore from the brightness of the pale snow. Pain. Throbbing in chest, is that my heart? It aches._

The avalanche grows louder, bellowing its fury down at us. Scout trips, and I stop to help him, only to stumble myself. Heavy grabs both of us by the collar and hauls us upright without a word, and we continue.

_I don't want to die. I escaped the plane crash. I escaped the plane crash! Not now, not here! Not here!_

The descent down the hill proves easy, but sprinting to the series of dark, gaping holes at the base of the mountains ahead seems an impossible task. How can we outrun the hundreds of tons of snow and stone waiting to entomb us for an eternity? I wondered manically if someone, an explorer maybe, might find out bones a few hundred years later, or if the snow would bury us and we'd never be seen again. Perhaps thousands of years later, when the ice shifted, some futuristic researcher would uncover our remains. What would they think?

_Blood oozing out of nose. Nose so dry. Throat so dry. Cold air is like a knife, running down my throat._

"Almost there!" My head snaps up at Heavy's voice. I can see them ahead, the caves. They're so close, but with a horrible sense of despair, I realize I don't have the strength. Again this helplessness. My period of consciousness after the plane crash. _I can't get enough air in my lungs. _My heart isn't beating fast enough, my mind isn't sparking bright enough. I can't warm up again. _I'll never feel warm again._ My legs give out, and my vision flashes red as I pitch forward into the snow.

_I'll never feel warm again._

Two pairs of strong sturdy arms catch me and begin dragging me along. I can hear their hoarse breathing as I trail along, like a limp doll in their grasp. My body hasn't fully recovered from the crash, and the rigors of the run have exhausted me.

I can feel pebbles pelting the back of my head. The roar is deafening now, and I know without a doubt the avalanche is just behind us.

Doesn't matter now, though. My head spins, and a particularly violent jolt sends me spinning into the void. At least there the blood in my boots and the peeling skin on my face don't matter anymore. One last chill rocks me, and I feel the two hands gripping me tighten, as though to drag me back from the abyss, but I don't want it to. I want to go there, into the dark, where the horrible reality of this is all gone. Even if there's nothing there, it's better than everything here.

_I'll never feel warm again._


	17. Chapter 17: Pessimist

_I'm beginning to spend far too much time unconscious_, I thought wearily as clarity returned to me. I sat up, just managing to suppress a scream of pain as every part of me protested in agony. I was in a dark cave, with icicles hanging from some parts of the ceiling and frost coating the walls. I found the cave entrance, which to my dismay, was mostly blocked by a massive pile of boulder fragments and thickly packed snow.

I struggled to my feet, but took just one step before my left leg went absolutely numb and tumbled over onto my knees. "Shit." With unfeeling hands, I gently explored my numb leg, feeling almost nothing at all as i pressed on the limb. My blood ran cold. Did I injure my spine?

"What are you doing?" a soft voice asked. It echoed around the cave, for a bit, during which I looked frantically about. "Back here, idiot."

I turned back to squint into the rear of the cave, which had been so obscured by shadows I couldn't make out a thing. Scout stepped out of the darkness, looking grim and favoring his right leg, but otherwise unharmed. "You? Where's everyone else?"

"Yeah, good to see you too. I dunno where the others are, but you should take a look back here." He turned and gestured back at the shadowy portion of the cave. What I'd previously thought was a section to dark to see was actually an unlit tunnel, leading back somewhere unseeable. "Some of these caves are connected. Heavy's in the cave right next to us, but I don't know where the others are. I'm not going into that fucking maze." He marched over and sat down heavily beside me. "So, what now?" His voice cracked at the end, and he let out a dry cough.

"Got any water?" I asked, licking my own chapped lips. I tasted blood, but lacked even the saliva to moisten my mouth.

"No. Maybe Heavy has some."

"Da. I do." Heavy stepped into the cave, bowing his head to fit his bulk through the fairly small tunnel entrance. He produced a couple of surprisingly undamaged plastic water bottles and tossed one to each of us. "Don't waste. Only those two."

I eagerly unscrewed the cap, and threw back my head, gulping down several delicious mouthfuls before remembering Heavy's warning and slowly pulling the bottle away from my lips. "Thanks," I murmured, wiping saliva away from my lips. "That was great." I looked ruefully at the remaining two-thirds, and shoved the bottle into my coat's inner pocket.

Beside me, Scout burped and sighed contentedly. Blinking in surprise, I turned to him and yelped. "You finished it!" I stared incredulously at the empty bottle in his hands.

Scout glanced down at the bottle, and then grinned at me. "Guess you'll just have to share."

Heavy uttered an oath in Russian and marched over to us. "We must go into cave network now. Prepare yourself. It is dark."

"Didn't you have the dispenser with you?" I asked. I looked around for the little blue toolbox.

"I lose in avalanche." Heavy spread his hands apologetically. "I think is gone now. Come, we must go soon. Maybe tunnels lead to others, maybe not. At least we hope tunnels lead out of here. Other cave, cave I came from, is blocked too. Hopefully some go higher."

"Why do I feel like we're going to die horribly in those tunnels?" I asked weakly as I gathered myself up. My legs had regained sensation, but even so I was reluctant to move.

"That's because you're a-a pessimefick!" Scout said.

"I'm sorry?"

"A pessimiff!"

"I don't-"

"Now is not time!" Heavy growled. The two of us fell silent, and turned as one to face him. Heavy had a stormy expression on his face. "We must find others."

"Perhaps they could find us here?" I suggested feebly. The dark tunnels seemed ominous and deadly, shrouded as they were in lightlessness.

"We must find others," Heavy repeated slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. "_Now._"

"Whatever you say!" I said, barely managing a smile.

* * *

"This is boring!"

"Did you think crawling around in tunnels would be fun?" I muttered. The pestering Scout kept bumping into me in the dark. "Would you walk straight? You move like you're drunk!"

"Maybe I am."

"Quiet, both of you," Heavy hissed in his big bear voice. "It echoes, and is annoying me."

"Wouldn't wanna annoy you, am I right? Right?" Scout chattered.

Heavy abruptly stopped, and we bumped into his back, unable to see. "I hear voices."

"I think they have psychologists for that," Scout suggested. I was surprised he knew what the word "psychologist" meant.

I said nothing in reply, for I'd begun to hear them as well. Around these narrow, silent halls, any noise was magnified and bounced around the passageways with incredible force. Now, we could hear something akin to a faint mutter. The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise; it was an eerie sound.

With sudden speed, the sounds increased in volume tenfold. The odd formation of the tunnels meant that sounds could be nearly silent at one point, and once in the right area, incredibly loud. All three of us froze.

"...gonna fall off."

"You haven't got one, lad! Stop your worrying."

"You know what? Fuck you!"

"Watch your language, laddie. I hear you Americans are big on language."

"Both of you be silent! I can hear ten of your voices bouncing back at me, and trust me-I hear your voices more zhen enough everyday," a German voice said coldly.

Heavy backed up a step and pressed us against the wall. The REDs! Now was probably the worst time to meet them. _Would they help us?_ I wondered.

"Why are we even here? Nobody could have survived that snowfall thing!"

"You vere not in zhe radio room when zhe message vas recieved, ja? If I remember correctly, you were passed out drunk in the closet. It took me twenty minutes to flush the alcohol from your stomach. In any case-the BLU base burned down."

"What? No way!"

"Yes way, laddie. And if you ever touch my scrumpy again, I'll break you in two."

"That crap wasn't even scrumpy! It was freaking paint or some shit!"

"Then why'd you drink three bottles of it, boyo?"

"Whatever. You think the blues are here, doc?"

The German voice hesitated, and then said, "We have our orders. Ve are to rescue survivors."

"Why not just off 'em? We've been paid to kill them, right?"

"Lad, it wasn't Redmond's company that ordered us to save them," the RED demoman said idly. "It was Mann Co. That lot wants the lot of us to keep on fighting 'till me grandmum walks out of her grave."

"I still say we just shoot them-we get some days off until they replace the team and build a new base for them," the RED scout growled.

"I don't much like the idea of shooting some helpless folk," RED demoman admitted.

None of us moved, even when a beam of light shone around the corner and illuminated our way. Breathing heavily, my heart pounding in my chest, I watched as the circle of light grew larger and larger, until three men rounded the corner.

Scout let out a squeak.

"Vell, vell. Ve found zhe mice in zhe tunnels…"

"I _knew _I was more handsome than the blue scout. I told ya."

* * *

AN: I don't think 'lightlessness' is a word. It totally should be.


	18. Chapter 18: Rescuers

"What do you want?" Heavy demanded. He stood in front of me and Scout, arms crossed and legs set square apart. He was certainly a lot more confident than me.

"Relax, mein freund. Ve have been sent to rescue you, and ensure your-dare I say it?-_survival,_" the Red Medic said, smiling. "Unbelievable, yes, but it seems ve must keep you alive until your base is rebuilt, and zhen ve have to kill each ozher again! It makes so much sense, ja?"

"I still say we just shoot them," Red Scout snapped. He stood scowling at our Scout, who stared back with an equally unfriendly look. I wondered if the two knew each other.

"You lads could use a drink! Everything's better with a li'l drink!" Red Demoman said cheerily. He proffered us a large, grey canteen that stank of cheap liquor.

"I vouldn't drink zhat if I vere you," the Red Medic said. He hefted his medigun and stared straight into our Heavy's eyes. "Vell, vill you allow us to aid you? You most certainly can't find your vay out on your own."

"I don't know how we're gonna get out either," Red Demoman muttered.

Heavy stood his ground for a moment, debating, and I eyed him nervously. Myself, I wasn't even one of these men, just a poor frenchman that crash landed in these damned mountains. Still, I figured going with these men was a better chance than bumbling about blind. At last, he said, "Fine. You can help. But do nothing stupid; that would be bad idea."

"Hence why they are called 'stupid ideas,' but I see your point," Red Medic said. "Now! All of you blues, come vith me, unless you have any terrible injuries I must examine." He gave a world-weary sigh. "Gah, I am getting too old to be tramping around in ice caves waiting for zhe abominable snowman to jump me. Come, ve vill fix your smaller hurts later." He turned and trekked off. The rest of us fell into file behind him, the Red Scout and Demoman bringing up the rear. Red Demoman seemed supremely unconcerned about the situation, while Red Scout seemed quite the opposite. He'd been glaring at our Scout nonstop, and I don't think he blinked once.

Along the way, Red Medic kept the medigun beam trained on me because, as he put it, "You look skinnier zhen my great grandmozher."

"Your great grandmother is still alive?" I asked incredulously.

"No, and vhat's left of her is fairly..._bony._"

Curiously, the Red's beam still felt refreshing, like the blue medigun, but for whatever reason it just felt wrong. Somehow, although I could technically feel my knotted muscles and bloody scratches sealing themselves, it seemed so unwholesome and incompatible. I wondered if there was a reason for that, but saw no reason to mention it to the Red Medic.

"Did you find any of others?" Heavy asked, his voice now strangely subdued.

"Nein, _ve_ haven't anyvay. Our Sniper and Pyro are searching elsevhere."

"Oh boy, did Sniper look mad," Red Scout chipped in. "I thought he was gonna stab you when you sent him with pyro."

"Zhose two don't get along. I vish Sniper vould stop pouring jarate in Pyro's flamethrower...and I vish Pyro vould stop putting firecrackers in Sniper's pillow. Come to zhink of it, zhose two should just lock zheir damn doors. Next vone to pull a trick, I'll switch zheir kidney's vizh Demo's."

"Oi! I don't want their bleedin' kidneys! Who knows what sort of stuff those lads have been drinkin'!"

_"Hey! Doc! Is that you?"_ a voice bellowed. Magnified as it was by the tunnels, it echoed painfully loud in our ears.

"Yes, it is us!" Red Medic hissed. "Stop zhat yelling!" We headed into a small chamber in the ice, illuminated by a crack in the wall. Red Sniper and Pyro stood there, arms crossed and sullen. I was surprised by how similar they looked to Blue team's members, and then remembered with a jolt the blue sniper's uncomprehending face as the burning beam collapsed onto him…

"You found some of them? Well, we've got some more of 'em. We can't find the Sniper though." Red Sniper glanced past Red Medic and scowled at me. "Who's this? They got two spies?"

"I don't know who he is, but zhat's zhe least of my concerns at zhe moment," Red Medic snapped. He shivered, trembling faintly all the while, and glared dully at the tunnel beyond. I followed his gaze to see some shadowy figures approaching. The rest of Blue team? "Hmph. I don't see zheir Sniper."

"I just said that you arse," Red Sniper said, and turned to irritably wave the others in. I noticed he was dressed in T-Shirt and vest, without any sort of winter gear. A true outdoorsman, or a true idiot. I hadn't yet decided which. Everyone filed in, beginning with our demo, and ending in a scowling Silas.

It took me a moment to realize what was wrong with this picture: Sebastian was gone! Before I could say anything, however, Heavy let out a snarl and marched over to Silas. None of the Reds moved to stop him. They seemed more bemused than anything. I watched nervously as he grabbed Silas by the collar and lifted him up as the smaller man struggled and gasped. "Where is he?"

Silas gasped out, "I don't know! I svear it! Ve have not seen him!" He was dwarfed by the giant of a man gripping him at the throat. His legs dangled beneath him in an almost comical fashion.

"He's right, lad. Sebastian's gone," Demoman said.

Heavy dropped Silas, who lay on the ground, purple-faced and twitching like a fish on land. "And? How can he be gone? We were close together in snow slide!"

"He must be a _deserter_! A traitor to the AMERICAN CAUSE!" Soldier screeched. The man's lips were bleeding and his fingers were blue, but his spirits were not dampened in the least. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, he marched up to Heavy (Who ignored him completely) and waved a finger in the air, bellowing, "I bet he's gone to join the _commies _in their _communist fairy land!"_

"Vait-vait! Who is zhis 'Sebastian'? Anozher stranger?" Red Medic demanded. He turned to me, glasses glinting. "And zhis man? He looks French! Vhy is he vizh you all? And dressed in zhose ugly French suits no less!"

"Ahem! They are not ugly, they are the prime example of a gentleman's attire!" Blue spy said from the back.

"Bah! Answers! Answers before ve return to zhe base, or you can all freeze here!"

The entirety of blue team exchanged sullen looks, and a couple of them gave me a nasty glare. I wished I could shrink into a corner and hide.

"Sebastian is Silas twin brother," Heavy said simply. He crossed his arms. "They snuck to job together. One is now missing."

Red Medic clapped a hand over Red Sniper's mouth when he made to speak, and said, "Continue. Who is zhis...frenchman?"

"He survived plane crash...you remember plane that went down a week ago, or so?"

"Impossible," Red Medic said sourly. "Ve saw it go into zhe gorge. Do you know how deep zhat is? Vhat, did he survive zhe crash and climb up all on his own? Or perhaps he sprouted vings and flew to zhe top? Hm?"

"Me and doctor rescue him. We search wreckage, I do not know why doctor wanted to look. We find this man, and he breathed, though just barely. We revive him, and that is all." Heavy finished his narrative with a glower, as if daring the Red Medic to contradict him again.

"Who bloody cares? We got supplies enough to last us a billion years and then some! Let's take the lot and go back," Red Demoman snorted. He took a swig from his bottle and belched. "I'm runnin' out of scrumpy."

"Zhat's not scrumpy. Zhat's zhe diluted rubbing alcohol you took from my cabinet," Red Medic muttered. He surveyed the blues with a searching eye, then turned to look me up and down. "In all technicality ve do not have to rescue anyvone not part of zhe blue team…"

"Aw, don't be like that," Red Demoman said, unperturbed. He sniffed the rim of his scrumpy bottle experimentally. "I thought it smelled funny."

I glanced at Heavy, hoping he would say something in my favor, but the big man remained silent. Beads of sweat broke out on my neck. They wouldn't leave me here...would they? Suddenly my mouth was very dry.

"Fine. Ve take him. It does not matter now, I suppose. But ve don't have time to find zhis...Sebastian. He is probably dead anyvay," Red Medic said. He took his hand off of Red Sniper's mouth, which worked furiously, as though he was trying to think of an appropriate curse, then clamped shut with a snarl. "Let's go."

Seeing as he seemed to know his way, we all trailed after Red Medic, while the rest of Red team lined up behind. It felt oddly like a prisoner march, and I suppose considering the circumstances it was.

* * *

I've never been happier to see the blindingly bright lights of the frozen mountains. Cool air blasted over my face, and after the dreary darkness and stagnant air of the caves it was oddly refreshing. We were standing at the mouth of a cave that sat some many meters above the valley we were in. Down below, in the ruined divide, we could see the remnants of the avalanche. Little could be seen of the ground. All had been decimated by billions of tons of ice, rock, and snow.

"Amazing, ain't it?" a deep voice said by my ear. I started, and turned to see Engineer gazing down into the valley.

"How do you mean?"

"Makes me feel right small, it does. Sorta reminds you there's something greater and stronger than your 12-gauge and your fists." Engineer continued to stare as the rest of the group pulled away. The Reds seemed not to notice us lagging behind. (Or chose not to.) "You know," he said at last. "I'm not real good with words, and I'm not always too great at reading between the lines, but this isn't going to work."

I shifted my weight on my feet and frowned, trying to puzzle out his meaning. He seemed to realize my confusion.

"Silas. The Reds. Us. We're pouring powder in a powder keg and lightin' a fuse." He gritted his teeth, frustrated. "And there ain't a damn thing to be done about it."

"The Reds don't seem to bad. With all due respect, no worse than any of you," I said gently.

"'s Cause they probably ain't any different." Engineer shoved his hands into his pockets and ground his teeth for a moment. "We're not dead, but Sebastian...poor devil."

"Wot' are you lot doing all the way back there?" Red Sniper called to us. He stood further up the pass, underneath a dead tree, glaring. "Get over here!"

"Comin'!" Engineer shouted back, then grimaced and doubled over coughing. I patted his back for a moment, and he hacked up a small, bloody lump. "Guess I'm not up to yelling yet," he said with a small smirk.

I helped him straighten up, and we both slogged through the snowy path up towards Red Sniper. My exhausted limbs had been rejuvenated by the red medigun beam, and right now, it seemed like I'd escaped two certain deaths.

* * *

_AN: Did you know "Breedlove" is a last name?_


End file.
